Dawn of a New Age
by E350
Summary: A threat is looming over the world, one beyond the Earth itself. Heroes must rise to face a irrepentable evil, but is it already too late? Nicktoons/Fosters/Weekenders crossover, not Nicktoons Unite compliant. A few surprise crossovers later in. Evil OC.
1. Prologue

Gah, I've got too much going right now, but this was a plot bunny that refused to go away.

Hope you enjoy it, read and review please!

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**Dawn of a New Age**

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ACT I – High Noon**

**Prologue**

Rain pattered from the skies over the city of Chicago as a cold wind blew through the dark and deserted streets. A cloaked figure in a fedora strutted confidently down the street, seeming to show little care for the bad weather. Occasionally he glanced at the sky, seeing the dark clouds lit eerily by the light pollution of the Windy City.

He glanced at his watch, wiping it to clear the wet surface. It was ten in the evening on a Sunday night – no-one in their right mind would be at work now.

Perfect.

The cloaked figure arrived at a small, dilapidated office building. Looking up, he saw a light shining from the third floor. Giving a quick glance up and down the street, the man gave a wry smile.

He propelled himself up three stories, before phasing himself through the window of the third floor.

"Plasmius. So glad you could make it."

Vlad Plasmius gave a snort as he pulled off his overcoat, revealing a clean two-piece suit and bowtie underneath. He threw the coat on the sole desk in the room and put down his fedora.

"I had no idea you were into private meetings, Mister Grim," he noted.

The other man in the room crossed his arms. He was wearing a one piece navy suit with a lime green tie. His brown hair was cut in a Boy Scout manner and his eyes were a light blue.

"Never hurts to go behind the curtain once and a while, Masters," Grim replied, his received pronunciation showing heavily as he spoke, "Has DALV assembled the pieces?"

"As requested," nodded Vlad, "Axion didn't ask any question, we didn't need to tell any lies."

His expression darkened.

"You realise I had to take some of those parts from secure locations," he growled, "Area 51, the Far Frozen, Tunguska, Atlantis – we're making some powerful enemies, Ovard."

"Hardly disconcerting," shrugged Grim, "Tunguska's in scenic nowhere. The Far Frozen is more to observing then acting. Atlantis wouldn't leave their city to get that back…and let's be frank, since when have the Americans noticed our dealings, hmm?"

"I hope you're right, Grim," snarled Vlad, "If anyone finds out about this, I do not intend to be dragged down with you."

"Oh, please," chuckled Grim, "When we're finished, they won't matter anymore."

Vlad gave a troubled glance.

"I'm getting the feeling that we're messing with powers we don't understand," he hissed.

Grim gave a loud guffaw.

"You worry too much, Plasmius!" he laughed, "This will work, and once it does, nothing will stop us! Atlantis will burn, the Far Frozen will cease to exist, Tunguska will be flattened again and the military…"

Grim gave a snort.

"When we are finished, we shall have an empire to our own…and every emperor needs an empress and an heir…"

Vlad gave a small grin, before noticing two glasses of wine on the desk. He picked it up, and raised a toast.

"To victory, Ovard Grim," he grinned.

"To _conquest_, Vlad Masters," toasted Grim, clinking his own glass.

A loud crackle of thunder echoed over Chicago. Grim looked outside at the lightning, and gave a small grin.

"To the end of time itself," he whispered to himself.

* * *

Anyone who can guess where the last line came from will, to quote the drill sergeant from Medal of Honor: Pacific Assault, gain my never ending in-cred-u-lous _sur-prise!_


	2. Chapter 1: Routine

Chapter Two is up! Sorry for the lateness, my compjuter ios in the shop at the moment, so I had to write this on another one.

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**Movie-Brat:** Thanks for your endorcement! As for other projects, no new ones for a while - I've got to do the ones I've already got. :D**

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****Chapter One: Routine**

It was a quiet morning in the city of Dimmsdale, roughly two-hundred kilometres from San Francisco, California. The sun shone over the Dimmsdale Elementary School as Timmy Turner sat with his friends under a tree, eating his lunch.

"...so then I had to escape the police," finished Chester.

"Weird story, dude," nodded Timmy, "Did you ever find out what happened to the salmon?"

"I think it turned up in Madrid a week later," shrugged Chester.

He sat back and sighed.

"So, where were you yesterday?" he asked, "You never came to school."

"I was doing...stuff," replied Timmy, quickly.

"That's always your excuse," shot AJ, "Is there something you're not telling us, Timmy?"

Timmy was silent for a few seconds.

"...no," he said at last.

AJ rolled his eyes.

"Well, I'm going to the bathroom," he informed.

"Ooh! 1:12!" noted Chester, "I told Sanjay you couldn't hold it all day! He owes me five bucks!"

Chester darted off in the direction of the cafeteria. AJ gave a small grin, and walked away himself.

Timmy sat back, alone. He was about to take a bite from his sandwich when he heard a voice.

"_Not too good to your friends, are you Timothy?"_

"Who are you?" demanded Timmy, looking around but finding nothing.

"_I am a friend,"_ replied the voice, _"I am here to help you, to guide you. You are one of seven, the fox, the conflicted soul of inner demons."_

"What the heck is that supposed to mean?" snapped Timmy.

"_Meet at the basin of the Earth, the foot of Kilimanjaro, and you will understand."_

The voice did not speak again.

Timmy shook his head as AJ and Chester returned.

"Hey man," greeted Chester, "What's up? You look confused."

"_Friendship is everything, fox._"

"Nothing," replied Timmy, "Nothing at all."

* * *

Operative K took a long sip from the glass of water he had been provided.

He and his partner, Operative O, had been on the Phantom case for about eight months. They thought they were doing a great job on their own, but evidently, the Chief disagreed.

So, apparently, did the Pentagon, as they had been drafted 'military assistance.'

"...so have claimed to be a quote-unquote 'jarhead'," he asked, stoically, "What exactly does this mean?"

"It means a marine, douchebag," snapped the marine officer, crossing his arms.

"Understood," nodded O, "Now, you have called Operative K a 'douchebag'. What does this title refer to..."

"Can someone please tell me how I got stuck dealing with the Feds?" lamented the marine, "This is CIA crap!"

"We understand you have experience in hunting down VIP targets in Afghanistan," informed K, "Lieutenant Maxwell Bishop, 1st Marine Force Recon – you are him, correct?"

"Yeah. What's your point?"

"We're hunting a very specific individual, Lieutenant," replied O, "His name is Danny Phantom, alternatively Inviso-Bill. Are you able to track this ghost down?"

"Yeah," shrugged Bishop, "I could do that."

"Excellent," nodded K, "Let's roll."

The Operatives climbed to their feet and began to walk to the door.

"What? You mean right now?" demanded Bishop.

"I think you misheard me – Lets. Roll," snapped K.

They marched out the door as Bishop ran to catch up, rolling his eyes.

* * *

AJ was walking home, humming a little tune to himself. It was a nice evening; perfect for being outside.

A newspaper blew into his path from a letterbox. He leant down to pick it up when the headliner caught his eye.

_**OVARD GRIM – THE IRON KING OF EUROPE**_

_Stock markets across the western world fell into shock following the total corporate buyout of Western Union Iron by the British scrap merchant, Ovard Grim. Mr. Grim, owner of the Grim Scrap Company since 1985, is now in control of most metal mining and recycling companies in Europe and North Africa._

_It is estimated that Mr. Grim earns more than 4.5 billion in pounds sterling a year – equal to nearly six million American dollars. His control of the steel and iron scene is supplemented by control of United Weapons Systems, the largest arms manufacturing corporation in North America, media outlets across Europe and North America, and several car manufacturing companies in Japan._

_These buyouts make Ovard Grim one of the most powerful men in the world..._

AJ shook his head, wondering briefly why he found this interesting. He slipped the newspaper into the letterbox and continued home.

There was a rumble from the ground. AJ lost his footing a fell onto his face. Before he could recover, he felt the ground beneath him separate, and he began to fall...

* * *

Timmy and Chester were walking home together when they felt the light, two second tremor.

"Whoa," noted Chester.

"Yeah," nodded Timmy, uninterested as they arrived at his house, "Anyway, I'll see you at AJ's tomorrow."

Chester gave Timmy an odd look.

"Huh?" he mused.

Timmy rolled his eyes.

"You didn't forget again, did you?" he reminded, exasperated, "We're meeting AJ tomorrow, remember?"

"AJ?"

"Yeah, AJ, our best friend," snapped Timmy, annoyed.

"Timmy...who's AJ?" asked Chester.

Timmy stared.

"OK, very funny, Chester," he groaned at last.

"I'm serious!" snapped Chester, "I don't know what you're talking about, but I do not know an AJ!"

"You know AJ!" shouted Timmy, "Bald! Blue vest! Science guy! You copy his homework!"

Chester tilted his head.

"Dude, are you sure you don't need to see a psychiatrist?"

Timmy held his head and let out a scream of aggravation.

"_AJ!_" he snapped, "_AJ IBREHIM!_"

Chester blinked.

"OK, dude, you're freaking me out," he shuddered at last, "I'll see you on Monday."

He walked quickly away.

Timmy held his head.

"I've gotta get Cosmo and Wanda," he breathed to himself.

He darted back into his house.

* * *

I've really got to stop using ideas from Doctor Who.


	3. Chapter 2: Alone

To reviewers; Well - here you go.

Biscuit to whoever gets that.

Oh, and incidentally, there's a subtle (I hope) hint to some of the plot in here. Keep a sharp eye!

Review replies;

**TweenisodeOrange: **Don't worry, this one won't be such a massacre...maybe. ;) Thanks for the review.  
**

* * *

Chapter Two: Alone**

Timmy charged into his house, rushing past his confused parents and heading for the stairs.

"Timmy!" grinned Mr. Turner, "How was your-"

"Can't stop, need to talk to fish," snapped Timmy, as he entered his room.

The Turners stared after him for a few seconds.

"OK…see you," said Mrs. Turner at last.

* * *

Vlad walked briskly into the military base, his invisibility protecting him from being seen by the guards. Above him, the hot African sun simmered over the Tanzanian savannah, and the humidity was near unbearable in his cape. He gave a growl as he wiped a drop of sweat from his forehead.

He entered the main building of the base, and gave a sigh of relief at the cool air conditioning. Glancing around, he returned to visibility and walked briskly up the stairs and into an office.

"So you decided to turn up, did you?" Skulker groaned, rolling his eyes as he sat back on his office chair.

"I got held up," snapped Vlad, "Grim's been running me practically global these past few days. Washington, London, Moscow, Beijing…"

"Well, hopefully this will all go off without a hitch," nodded Skulker.

"Hope so," sighed Vlad, "I hate working with these mercenaries. At least with ghosts, we don't have to hide our ghost halves."

"Hasn't been giving me any trouble," grinned Skulker, "I told them I was wearing a prototype exoskeleton…"

"…yes, well you don't have a double life to lead," snapped Vlad, "I still have to keep Mastersoft running on top of all this…"

"Poor you," moaned Skulker.

Vlad sighed.

"Anyway, I have orders for you," ordered Vlad, "Grim's gotten word of a meeting on the cliff road – the one that overlooks Mount Kilimanjaro. He wants you to break it up."

"When does he want us to move?" asked Skulker.

"Three – that's give you an hour to get there," replied Vlad.

"I can do that," nodded Skulker.

"You'd _better_ do that," scowled Vlad, "This is of extreme importance."

"Did he tell you why?"

Vlad bit his lip.

"I shall see you tomorrow in Washington," he growled.

He marched briskly out the door.

* * *

Timmy walked into his room, and approached his fishbowl.

"Guys, I need your help!" he said, frazzled.

There was a poof, and his fairy godparents appeared before him.

"What's wrong, sport?" asked Wanda.

"Something happened to AJ," replied Timmy, "Chester doesn't remember him."

Cosmo and Wanda stared at him, blankly.

"AJ," growled Timmy, "Short bald guy. Remember?"

"Err…no," replied Wanda, at last.

Timmy gave a groan of agonized frustration.

"_AJ!_ He's one of my best friends!"

"Suuuuure he is," nodded Cosmo, patronisingly, "Your _imaginary _friends…"

"Not you too!" cried Timmy, "I'm mean, it's bad enough with Chester…"

Cosmo and Wanda blinked.

"Err…Chester?"

"_**GAAAAAAAAAAAAH!**_"

Cosmo and Wanda were taken aback as Timmy began to scream to the heavens.

"_What the heck is going on!_" shouted Timmy, "_Why are my friends just disappearing? WHO'S DOING THIS?_"

There was a sudden crack of thunder and the house shook violently. Timmy fell on his back and shut his eyes.

The shaking soon stopped. Timmy opened his eyes.

He was alone.

"G…guys," he whispered.

He lost his footing and stepped back, knocking into his cupboard. There was a thud, and something fell to his floor.

If ever asked, Timmy would state adamantly that this was not a diary – it was a _journal_. Nevertheless, it was a book that contained Timmy's personal memories, and one he updated regularly. Not that he told his friends, of course.

He grabbed it with a shaking hand, and turned to a random page.

It was a photo of Timmy, standing next to his fishbowl and grinning at the camera. _The bowl was empty._

Timmy's breath grew faster as he flipped through the book. He found photos with missing figures, text with missing words.

As far as this book was concerned, his fairies and best friends had never existed.

Timmy dropped the book and ran downstairs, panic overtaking him.

"Timmy!" grinned Mr. Turner, standing at the foot of the stairs, "Have you finished talking to your fish?"

"No time, I've gotta find out who still exists!" cried Timmy, running past him.

Mr. Turner stared as his son ran into the living room.

"OK," he nodded, "I'll just go eat some yams."

Timmy darted into the living room and grabbed a notebook next to the phone – the Turner's personal contacts. Sweating, he checked the alphabetical pages.

A for AJ – nothing.

C for Chester – nothing.

E for Elmer – nothing.

S for Sanjay – nothing.

V for Vicky – there. Pity, that.

Timmy put down the book and sat down in a cold sweat. He was wondering how this day could get any weirder when the telephone rang.

Reluctantly, Timmy answered.

"_I know what happened to your friends. Meet me at Kilimanjaro."_

Timmy was taken aback. It was a female voice – but not one he recognised.

"What?" demanded Timmy, "Who are you?"

"_No time, just come_," the voice replied.

"To Mount Kilimanjaro? Isn't that in _Africa?_"

"_Tanzania, to be exact._"

"How am I supposed to get there?" snapped Timmy.

"_Hang on – this'll take a second_."

There was a sudden whine, like an electrical coil charging. There was a flash of light, and Timmy was gone.

He did not know what was coming. If he had known, he wouldn't have answered that call…


	4. Chapter 3: Gathering

I am sorry for my extended inactivity - my computer sort of melted under malware. Didn't lose anything, though, so I guess I'm lucky!

Also, as per my Happy Fluffy Contest, the winner shall now be announced. TweenisodeOrange, A Winner Is You. Congrats. :D

Review replies;

**TrixieStixs:** Don't worry, it'll get less generic as it goes. Hopefully. Anyway, thanks for the review, kameraden!

**TweenisodeOrange:** That's what I love about writing FOP - instant drama, just remove fairies! XD Thanks for reading!

**Movie-Brat:** Thanks very much! Hopefully, this is still interesting.  
**

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Chapter Three: Gathering**

Timmy fell flat on his face in the dirt, and gave a muffled groan.

Climbing to his feet, he noticed that is was quite a bit warmer here then in Dimmsdale. While he knew very little of geography, he managed to deduct that this was somewhere in Africa, judging by the savannah that surrounded him.

"Timmy Turner, I presume?"

Timmy turned around, and tilted his head.

"Who are you?"

A teenage boy crossed his arms, and gave a small grin.

"Danny Fenton," he greeted, "I guess you're here for the meeting?"

"What meeting?"

Danny shrugged.

"I don't know," he replied, "I just got a phone call and ended up here."

"Where _is_ here, anyway?" mused Timmy.

"Don't know," shrugged Danny, "I think its Tanzania, but that one's a pretty wild guess."

There was the sound of a falling scream, followed by a thud behind them. The two boys turned, and saw a small blue blob climbing to his non-existent feet.

"Uh…what?" exclaimed Danny.

The blob made it to an upright position, looked both ways, and gave a short cheer.

"Yes! I've mastered teleportation! Now I am unstoppable!" the blob yelled in elation.

"O…K, what are you?" asked Timmy, confused.

"Who's asking?" asked the blob, somewhat irritably.

"I'm gonna guess that you're called 'Bloo'," mused Danny.

"How do you know?" demanded Bloo.

"I don't know, I'm reading the list on the rock."

Danny pointed to a large stone, with five names carved on the side.

"Oh, that explains it," nodded Bloo, "How do _they _know my name?"

"Precognition?" suggested Danny.

"What's that supposed to mean?" asked Bloo, suspiciously.

"I dunno," shrugged Timmy, "Well, if Danny landed first, then I got here, then Bloo got here, that means it's going _down_ the list."

Indeed, the top three names on the carving were those of the three present.

"That means the next guy to land is…Tino Tontini."

There was a dull thud, and another, blond haired boy appeared on the ground.

"Speak of the devil," grinned Danny.

Tino climbed to his feet, surprised.

"What's going on?" he asked, nervously, "Where am I?"

"Africa," Timmy replied, simply.

"_Africa?_" demanded Tino, "How did I get to Africa? All I remember is answering the phone and…"

"Hey, that's how I got here," nodded Bloo.

Tino stared at Bloo for a few seconds.

"You are a talking blue blob," he said, slowly.

"Glad you've noticed," deadpanned Bloo.

There was another dull thud, and a life-sized sponge fell to the ground just in front of Tino.

"O…K, I've gone crazy," he decided.

The sponge climbed to his feet, and scratched the top of his head – which was also his body.

"Where am I?" he asked.

"…standard question 073," sighed Bloo.

"I'm going to guess that you're Spongebob Squarepants," decided Timmy, "That's everyone here, but…why?"

"From what the phone voice said," mused Danny, "I think we should be going that way."

He pointed at the giant shape of Mount Kilimanjaro, far in the distance.

"That's gotta be a hundred miles away!" protested Bloo.

"Can somebody tell me what's going on?" asked Tino, "I've only been here for thirty seconds."

"Dude, you know about as much as I do," shrugged Timmy, "I'll fill you in on what we know on the way."

* * *

In truth, Sam Manson had had stranger days.

She was shackled to a wall in a freezing dungeon, lit only by a few solitary lamps. She had five companions, three of whom were also prisoners, one of whom could be best described as a grunt, and one man who she should very much like to punch in the face.

The suited man paced before his prisoners, talking mainly to the prisoner held by his minion. Tucker Foley looked utterly terrified – given that he was being held by a giant of man clad in black riot armour, this was forgivable.

Both of the other two prisoners were female. One was a human aged about eleven, and wore attire not dissimilar to a Catholic school student. She was clad in oversized purple glasses, and had black hair tied into a ponytail.

The other was a squirrel, oddly enough, dressed in an air suit with a flower on the clear, spherical helmet.

"Alright, Mister Foley, I've tried being civil," the suited man growled, "But continued defiance does not amuse me. You will tell me where Daniel Fenton has hidden the Infi-Map."

"He gave it back to Frostbite," replied Tucker, shivering a little.

"No, no he didn't!" snapped the man, "I have contacts within the Ghost Zone, and they can confirm that Fenton has not yet had the opportunity to return the map. Evidentially, he has hidden it for safekeeping until he has time to do so – Where. Is. It."

Tucker shuddered a little – but then his resolve hardened, and he gave the businessman a glare.

"I don't know where it is."

It was not an answer, it was a statement. The suited man's face turned to a grimace.

"Well, maybe you'll remember if you sleep on it."

He snapped his fingers. The guard clenched his fist, and swung across the back of Tucker's head. The boy fell to the ground, out cold.

The suited man gave a small grin, and cleared his throat.

"My apologies, that was not the best introduction," he stated, simply, "I am Ovard Grim, at your service. You are in what was once known as the Moscow Wastebin – Tsar Alexander III's top secret prison and fortress of refuge. You'll find it contains many secrets – and that it is complete inpenetratable, from inside and out."

"Yeah, I kinda noticed it was a dungeon," snapped Sam.

"Sarcasm, Ms. Manson, is it?" shot Grim, "I'm sorry, I have _trouble_ with the concept."

Sam gave him a death glare.

"Since you have no chance of escape and we're going to be acquaintances for a while," Grim continued, "I will allow you to be unshackled."

"But how do you know we can't escape?" asked the younger girl, confused.

"Oh don't worry, Ms. Delisle," grinned Grim, "I've asked the men to shoot on sight – age and value is a…low consideration."

The younger girl shuddered.

"Mark my words, you will be treated well," finished Grim, "After all, it would be foolish of me to mistreat some of my most important pieces in this game."

He gave an unpleasant grin as he turned to the door.

"Adams, unshackle them," he ordered as he left, "Oh, and one more thing…"

He turned around and gave a whisper.

"Welcome to Mother Russia, comrades."

* * *

A/N: As an aside, the Moscow Wastebin never actually existed. Alexander III did though, and believe me, he was a **prick.**


	5. Chapter 4: Beginning

The plot thinkens, and it also grasps for an excuse at one point, but never mind.

**TweenisodeOrange:** Well, I've never seen that movie. Maybe I channel Harrison Ford? XD Thanks for the review!

**TrixieStixs:** Thanks for that one! XD

**

* * *

Chapter Four: Beginning**

"…so you are familiar with a Danny Phantom?" quizzed Operative K.

"Who isn't?" grinned Dash, "He's only saved this town a bazillion times."

"Mr. Baxter, 'bazillion' is not a word," criticised O.

Lt. Bishop rolled his eyes.

The two operatives and the reluctant Marine had called in several students of Casper High who had had known contact with Danny Phantom for questioning. They were in a small, disused classroom, Dash seated as the operatives paced around him.

"We understand that two students of this school have innumerable sightings with the ghost," snapped K, "Mr. Tucker Foley and Ms. Samantha Manson."

"Who?" asked Dash, confused.

"You should know them," growled O, "They're in your homeroom and English classes."

"Never heard of 'em," replied Dash.

"Don't play dumb with me," snarled K, "They're often seen in the company of a Mr. Daniel Fenton, is that name familiar?"

"Fenturd?" mused Dash, "Yeah, I know the guy. He's some freak in my classes. He always hangs around by himself – guess he can't find another geek who'll talk to him."

O gave a suspicious glance.

"Very well," he decided at last, "You're free to go."

"Finally," Dash grinned, as he marched out of the room.

"Nice guy," sighed Bishop, sardonically crossing his arms.

"We'll keep trying," growled K, "Phantom will turn up eventually."

Bishop groaned.

* * *

It was dark by the time the small group reached something of note.

It was a small stone construct, rather like a shrine. An altar sat on a slightly elevated podium, with two large pillars – if they could be called such – framing the darkened shape of Kilimanjaro in the distance.

"Wow, when'd we run into Stonehenge?" asked Danny, to no one in particular.

Timmy stepped onto the podium, walking carefully towards the altar. Touching the smoothened surface, he felt a cool wind. The area lit up as what appeared to be fireflies zoomed onto the shrine.

They formed into the form of a woman of indiscernible age, maybe between sixteen and forty, with no features beyond the simple glowing outline.

"_Welcome, you who have answered the call,"_ the form said in the same voice from the earlier phone call.

"Y'know," considered Tino, "You'd think I'd be surprised by this, but by now, I'm actually not."

"_You are facing many trials ahead, young heroes,"_ the form continued, sound seemingly coming from all angles at once, "_For this…I have taken the liberty of preparing you._"

The form pointed behind them.

"_Now fight, young ones._"

The group looked behind them. Three sets of headlights barrelled towards them, screeching to a halt in front of the shrine. They were three sand-grey hummers, each carrying five armed men, who were in turn divided into groups of three. Each was clad in a vague cross between military fatigues and security equipment, with helmets and caps. One man, a bearded one wearing a beret with a rifle, aimed threateningly at the group.

Tino screamed.

"Heh, you sound like a girl," mocked Bloo.

"Stay where you are!" snapped the leader in a vague Croatian accent, "We are here by the order of Vlad Masters to take you in. We have been asked not to harm you!"

"Vlad?" snapped Danny, "Go back and tell him we're not coming!"

"You sure that's a good idea?" asked Spongebob, nervously.

"Very well," nodded the leader, "Masters never said anything about _harming_ you, anyway."

He aimed the rifle at Danny's leg, and the muzzle flashed.

What happened next was not something Danny had expected.

His perspective of events seemed to slow, just enough for him to see the bullet spinning towards his thigh. He supposed for a few seconds that this was supposed to be adrenaline, but as he willed his leg intangible, he realised that his reflexes were reacting faster then normal – which meant he had the upper hand.

As the bullet passed harmlessly through his foot as Danny aimed his palm at the leader and fired an ectoplasmic blast. The blast struck the leader in the face, and he fell backwards, flat on his back.

Infuriated, the beared individual's men raised their weapons. The two closest to him aimed at Danny, but the ghost boy's enhanced reflexes were too quick for them. He dove forward and tackled the first man, before jumping into the air and committing a spin kick on his friend.

He landed on the ground, and gave a confused frown.

"Is this a new power?" he mused, as he went into his ghost mode.

Three more men threw themselves at Timmy, one of them giving a rather throaty and strangely hilarious roar. Timmy braced himself as they fired.

Timmy's hands glowed pink, and a circular shield formed before his body. The bullets bounced harmlessly off the shield, and became embedded in the ground.

Letting out another roar that sounded like a strangled boar, one of the men hurled himself at Timmy, holding his gun like a club. Timmy moved his left hand into a blocking position, and his entire arm glowed. The gun broke on his arm, but Timmy felt no pain.

Grinning, Timmy returned with a punch to the gut, but the big man jumped back. Timmy's fist met air – and a pulse of pink energy exploded from his knuckles, slamming into the three mercenaries and throwing them back six feet. They crashed to the ground, and were still.

Timmy stared at his hand for a few seconds, before grinning.

"Awesome!" he cried out.

Bloo watched as another group walked towards him. Evidently, they did not think him much of a threat, lazily holding their rifles at him.

Calling a battle cry, Bloo reached for his paddleball, before remembering that he had no pockets and therefore no paddleball. Not to be defeated, Bloo threw himself at one of the men, trying to make a karate kick.

He bounced lightly off the man's chest, and fell back to the ground. However, he then bounced off the ground and whacked the man's face rather hard. The man fell back, clutching a bleeding nose.

Confused, Bloo stamped his foot on the ground, and it began to bounce up and down. Grinning, he sprung himself into the air, and, curling into a ball, flung towards the man. He made contact with his head, and knocked him backwards, straight into a rock. The man giddily span around, smashing his comrades with his rifle butt, before he too fell down.

"Ahahaha!" Bloo laughed, "Fear the bounce, cretin!"

Spongebob was backing against a stone pillar as three rather threatening men approached him. Holding his bubble wand in a shaking hand, he gave a stuttered warning.

"No closer…or…or you get the bubbles!" he shuddered.

The men laughed as Spongebob blew meekly into the wand.

A large plethora of bubbles expunged from the wand, slamming into the men at a heavy hitting speed. They cried out, one covering his eyes, as the soupy bubbles pinned them down. Desperately, they climbed back up again and ran.

"Wow, I didn't even have to use the technique," grinned Spongebob.

Tino and the last three men noticed the running and knocked out mercenaries.

Grabbing a stick, Tino made a pose, and gave a battle cry as he threw himself at the last group. His stick snapped on the face of one of them, who blinked.

Then, the mercenaries ran, screaming.

Climbing to his feet, the beret-wearing leader gave a curse, and jumped into the nearest Humvee. They drove away, heading back to their base.

Tino blinked.

"Did we really do that?" he asked at last.

"_Yes, you did_."

The outlined woman appeared again.

"_You have unconsciously bent the power of this shrine to your favour in battle,_" the woman explained, _"You have proved yourselves worthy of the challenges ahead._"

"What challenges?" demanded Timmy, "…and what do you mean powers of the shrine?"

"_This shrine contains ancient power that may only be used once, when needed, then never again_," explained the Outline Woman, _"Power which Daniel, Timothy and Blooregard have tapped in this battle."_

"So wait," mused Danny, "We can never use that power again, right? What was the point?"

"_Only a true hero could use such power,_" replied the Outline Woman,_ "You have proved you are a true hero._"

There was a short pause.

"_The challenge ahead will be hard,_" she continued, _"You will need to rely on your natural abilities, your minds and your hearts. I have full confidence that you can defeat the Grim."_

"Couldn't you just give us the powers?" demanded Bloo, "I mean, sponge-guy tapped the shrine and you didn't mention him!"

"_Spongebob was using a natural ability_," shrugged the Outline Woman.

Bloo stared at Spongebob for a few seconds.

"You can do that with bubbles?" he asked.

"_We digress,_" the Outline Woman sighed, _"The Grim has two bases – his main base and that of his Lieutenants. You must remove his allies before you take him_…"

The group began to glow and lift off the ground.

"_I hope you like Berlin_."

Then the group vanished.

_

* * *

(AN: Sorry, I'm breaking one of my main rules here, but I need to explain something before I continue. I know that explanation above was a bit dumb, but I changed my mind for a part of the plot mid-scene and I didn't want to rewrite the whole thing. Magical shrine of temporary magic is still better then midiclorians, anyway._

_P.S.: No offence to Star Wars fans. The prequels are still good, but you must admit, that was a pretty rubbish hand wave, Lucus.)_

* * *

Grim stood on his balcony, glancing over the city of Moscow as Vlad arrived.

"Ah, Vladimir," he stated, without facing him, "How is Tanzania this time of year?"

"Hot," replied Vlad, simply, "I would have thought I'd get that over here."

"You think Russia's snowed under all year round?" chuckled Grim.

Vlad did not answer.

"I think you may be treating some of the prisoners a little _too_ well," he stated, simply.

"That's just courtesy, my good man," shrugged Grim, "We are talking about very integral parts of our plan here."

"…and very volatile," added Vlad, concerned.

"Everything is under control, Vladimir," reassured Grim.

He breathed in.

"It's a beautiful city, isn't it?" he observed, "And soon…it will be mine."

* * *

Again, no offense to Star Wars fans.

One day, I shall go to Moscow. And on that day, I shall bring certain American game designers, point at St. Basil's Cathedral and yell out "_That is NOT the Kremlin!_"


	6. Chapter 5: Missing Persons

Err...yeah, not much to say here. TweenisodeOrange, I hope I've made a good start with Merc.

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**TweenisodeOrange:** Thanks for the review, and rest assured, I'm still working on Happy Fluffy Reviews.  
**

* * *

ACT II – Afternoon**

**Chapter Five: Missing Persons**

The secretary stood at his desk, and let out a heavy sigh. It was a slow day at the Federal Criminal Police Office in Wiesbaden, Germany, at least at his desk. He was supposed to take inquiries from civilians, but there had not been any of those this evening. He had essentially spent four hours standing at a desk in silence.

_Fun._

The door to his office flung open and an individual in a heavy trench coat walked in. The secretary could not see his face under a large fedora.

"_**Greetings**__, friend, Die Sprukensie English?"_ he boomed.

"Ja," nodded the secretary, "What do you want?"

"I, _Technus, __**Master of Technology**_**,** am here to deliver you a message direct from _Ovard Grim!_" the strange man bellowed.

"Yes, he phoned ahead, Mr. Technus," nodded the secretary, "You have a message."

Technus dramatically flung an envelope onto the table.

"_Here you go!"_ he yelled, before cackling insanely.

"Can you leave now?"

"Yeah, I'll be going," nodded Technus, walking out the door.

The secretary glanced at the envelope, and opened it up.

He raised an eyebrow.

"Well…_this_ is interesting."

* * *

There was a flash, and Timmy felt himself land on a pavement. Rubbing his head, he sat up. He was in an urban environment, but it didn't look like America or even Africa. It was no cleaner nor shabbier, just – different. Notably, it seemed to be mid-morning.

"Where are we?" he asked, to no-one in particular.

"Looks like Europe," replied Danny, glancing from left to right, "We in Europe?"

"That sign saying 'Welcome to Berlin' might be a clue," considered Bloo, pointing to a billboard attached to an apartment.

"Wow, I've never been to Germany!" mused Spongebob.

"Guys, it gets worse," Tino gulped, pointed at a poster on a brick wall beside them.

The poster had two photos, and two inscriptions, one in German, one in English.

_MISSING. Tino Tontini and Timmy Turner, abducted in USA yesterday, believed to be in Berlin today. If seen, please report to the police. Any accomplices are likely to be their kidnappers._

"Aw…crud," moaned Timmy.

* * *

"We believe your son has turned up in Germany."

"How can he be in Germany?" demanded Mr. Turner, "I didn't pay for him to go to Germany!"

"Yes, he has been abducted," nodded the detective, tiredly sitting back on the couch.

Mr. and Mrs. Turner stared for a few seconds.

"Which means kidnapped."

"Oh," said Mrs. Turner.

They paused for a second.

"_TIMMY!_"

There was a sudden knock on the door. The detective got up and answered.

"Yes?"

Another man stood at the door. He wore a blue cowboy hat, a collared shirt and brown vest, and what appeared to have been a hastily applied badge and tie. Most striking was his blue hair – the detective noted that this guy must use dye.

"Uh…hi, I'm…_Sheriff_ Merc," the man said, seemingly making this up as he went along, "I'm here for the Turner case."

"What office are you?" asked the detective, sceptically.

"Uh…Office of…Policetown?"

"Oh, you're one of _those_ hicks," nodded the detective, "Whatever, I don't care. Have fun with these clowns, I'm getting a drink."

He walked gruffly away.

Merc mopped his brow, and felt thankful that the cop had bought his cover. The backup plan was, after all, Jorgen beating him up. Nobody needed that.

* * *

Danny waited outside the changing room of the clothes shop, arms crossed.

"Are you done yet?" he demanded.

"Why aren't you getting a disguise?" asked Bloo, irritably.

"Because it's not my face on the wanted picture, and because I don't stick out."

"Hey! Have you got a problem with blobs?"

The door opened, and the other four stepped out.

All of them had donned fedoras, suits and trench coats.

Danny facepalmed.

"What is that?" he groaned.

"It's a disguise," replied Spongebob, grinning, "Do you like it?"

"You're supposed to be in disguise, not in the FBI!" shot Danny.

"What's the FBI?" asked Spongebob, confused.

Danny gave a despondent sigh.

"Never mind, I'll just tell people you're cosplaying Prohibition agents or something," he decided, as they left the shop and walked towards the centre of Berlin.

"So, that firefly lady said something about 'the Grim,'" mused Timmy.

"Yeah, and his Lieutenants," continued Tino, "She said we have to get rid of them first…so maybe they're in Berlin?"

"So what's the best course of action?" asked Danny, thoughtfully.

"Catch the next plane back to America?" considered Tino.

"I dunno," shrugged Timmy, "They'd be hidden, so…"

"Maybe we can draw them out," grinned Spongebob, pointed at a poster on the side of a parked bus.

'GRIM CO. (CENTRAL EUROPE) FUNCTION – 12.00PM TODAY – ALL WELCOME.'

"That's where the Grim's Lieutenants will be," nodded Timmy, "And we're already dressed up…"

* * *

"Ms. Manson!"

Sam didn't look at the door of the small, modestly furnished room in which she was imprisoned. Instead, she casually continued removing the lace from her pillow with her scissors, mentally pretending that the lace was her captors.

Grim crossed his arms.

"Madam, sincerely, have you considered dining?" he asked, "You haven't eaten since you arrived…that's about sixteen hours now."

"I'm holding scissors, Grim," snapped Sam, gritting her teeth.

"…what does that matter?" retorted Grim, "You wouldn't dare use them. I know people like you – you talk the talk, but when it comes to the deed, you back down."

"What're you talking about," growled Sam.

"I'm talking about offing people," replied Grim, very bluntly, "But that's hardly the point."

He stepped into the room.

"You'd look better in green, Ms. Manson."

Sam glared at him.

"Are you…"

"What do you take me for," snapped Grim, "Some sort of lowlife _scum?_ I am merely making an observation."

He turned around.

"For you see, Ms. Manson!" he announced, "You have powers within you, dormant but still quite present, just enough for me to work with. Power to destroy a city, to enslave a people…and you don't even remember."

Sam looked at Grim, confused and annoyed.

"You will, Ms. Manson," Grim shrugged, heading for the door, "Fenton may have been too cowardly to inform you of your own life, your own _actions_…"

He turned around suddenly, holding what looked like a seed in his hand.

"But I am not," he snarled.

Two burly men in black walked in, one carrying a glass of water.

"Make sure she takes two an hour for about three hours," ordered Grim.

"Take _what?_" demanded Sam.

"Why, your destiny, Ms. Manson!" grinned Grim, handing the seed and a small box to one of the men, "Plain and simple…"

He stepped out of the room, closing the door behind him. He heard a brief struggle, a thump, and then the sound of slurping water.

He gave a small, casual grin, slapped his hands together and walked away.

* * *

Just out of interest, what does everyone think of Ovard Grim? Just want a consensus, is all.


	7. Chapter 6: The Function

This only took too long, now didn't it. Just a reminder, the Halloween contest ends Monday. I can extend the deadline again, but not for much longer.

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**TweenisodeOrange:** Yeah, there's a little more to Grim then global conquest, but you'll see. XD Thanks for reading!  
**

* * *

Chapter Six: The Function**

The function hall in which the Grim Scrap Company Function was being held was nothing particularly special. A modern building towards the centre of Berlin, it had a large poster of a suited man over the entrance.

Timmy raised an eyebrow.

"Reckon he's the Grim?" he asked.

"Well, he's got an ego," shrugged Tino.

"Alright," nodded Danny, leading them in the door, "I'm the only one not wanted by the cops, so I'll handle this."

He strolled up to the receptionist, a suited man rapping his fingers on his desk.

"Die sprechen sie English?" he asked, somewhat shakily.

"Yeah," nodded the receptionist, in a gravely Bronx accent, "I work for the US branch, I'm just here for today."

"Good, that's all the German I know," grinned Danny, relieved, "This the function?"

"Yep," replied the receptionist.

He glanced at Timmy, Bloo, Spongebob and Tino.

"What's with the getup, Eliot Ness?" he asked.

Timmy shot him a dark glare as they walked past the desk.

* * *

"We didn't get anything from that," snapped Bishop as he followed the Guys in White back to their car, "All you did was spit out random non-existent names and expect people to know who they were!"

"On the contrary, Lieutenant," replied O, climbing into the white sedan, "They do exist. It's just that nobody can remember them."

"Right," nodded Bishop, condensing, "You trying to tell me that some ethereal Stalin has removed them from history or something?"

"Check that up, O," ordered K, "I wanna see if we've encountered the ghost of Stalin. The lieutenant has suggested a plausible possibility."

Bishop facepalmed.

"Yep, you do that," he groaned, "I'm just gonna sit back and wait for this mission to end."

O ignored him, checking his laptop for information.

"Interesting," he noted, "Manson and Foley have been removed from the records. For all intents and purposes, there's no proof they ever existed."

"Yep," snarled Bishop, sarcastically, "It's definitely ghost Stalin. He does it between drinks with Napoleon and Caesar on Tuesdays."

O and K looked at him.

"How much to do you know about this?" demanded K.

"It's called _sarcasm_," growled Bishop.

O shook his head in confusion and glanced at the laptop.

"We've got a missing persons update," he noted, "Two missing kids are believed to be in Berlin. There may be a connection."

"Please tell me we're not…" sighed Bishop.

"We'll take the White Jet," nodded K.

"The _White_ Jet?" quizzed Bishop.

"Shut up," snapped K.

* * *

To all intents and purposes, the function was just that – an ordinary, boring business function. But as Timmy kept an eye on the crowd (and the food – he hadn't eaten for hours now), he noticed a certain person who…stood out.

He alerted the others, and pointed to the hunchbacked individual speaking with one of the security personnel.

"Guys," he hissed, "That's my teacher – Mr. Crocker."

"…and he's important, why?" asked Bloo.

"The guys a nutjob," replied Timmy, "He's deducted that I have fairy godparents…which I don't. He tried to take over the world once."

"Guy has issues," nodded Tino, "How do you know it's him?"

The man twitched violently and spastically, causing the guard to step back.

"Yep, that's him," sighed Timmy, dryly.

The guard rolled his eyes and began to walk away, towards the back. Crocker followed, looking somewhat sheepish.

"We'd better follow him," mused Danny, "You know him, Timmy, you go."

"He'll need help," replied Spongebob, "Who knows what they have back there!"

"Well volunteered, Spongebob!" grinned Bloo, before running to the bathroom.

Danny rolled his eyes.

"You guys keep an eye on him," he ordered, "Let us know if anything happens."

Timmy nodded, and headed towards the door Crocker had left through. Anxiously, he wondered what was on the other side.

* * *

The flight to Berlin was quiet and empty, allowing the Turners and Merc to sit in the same row. Merc kept a nervous eye on Timmy's parents – he didn't want anyone to work out that something was out of place, but Mr. Turner never shut up.

"…I can't believe we got tickets to Berlin so easily!" grinned Mr. Turner, "It's almost as if it happened by _magic!_"

Merc briefly wondered whether or not he should gag Mr. Turner. He decided against it.

He glanced around the isle, mulling his assignment in his head. Jorgen wanted Timmy back with his parents and back in the States as fast as possible – he also wanted Merc to use as little magic as humanly (or was it fairily?) possible.

It was very strange. Jorgen had actually seemed _concerned _about Timmy, and had gone out of his way to explain that the fellow that the Outline Woman wanted him to take on was no laughing matter. If a mere human could frighten the toughest fairy in the universe, what could it do to a ten-year old child?

It didn't matter, Merc decided. He'd rope up Timmy Turner and drag him back home, if he needed to.

* * *

Grim glanced at the mirror in his personal chamber, adjusting his tie. He gave a grin and a nod, before stepping briskly to his telephone and dialling a number.

The phone rang twice before answering.

"Is it done, Walker?" he asked.

"_Yeah,_" Walker's gruff voice replied, "_The dormant power has been activated._"

"Excellent!" praised Grim, "Carry on with the good work."

"_You can't repeat the process with the other two, Grim,_" snapped Walker, "_Unlike Manson, they didn't get messed around by Undergrowth._"

"I'm aware," affirmed Grim, "I have prearranged agreements for them. Carry on."

He hung up the phone. Whistling to himself, he left the chamber. It was time to pay a visit to the dungeons…and to the squirrel.


	8. Chapter 7: Emotional Manipulation

This chapter mainly focuses on one scene, so was pretty easy to write. One thing - I want you to tell me what you thought of Grim before and after reading this chapter (as in how much you like or sympathise with him, not him as a character.)

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**Zim'sMostLoyalServant:** I love writing those guys. They're so awesomly hilarious. As per Grim being a monster... :| Thanks for reading!

**TweenisodeOrange:** I'm glad you liked it. I was a bit worried writing Merc, so it's good to see that I'm doing well. Thanks for reviewing!  
**

* * *

Chapter Seven: Emotional Manipulation**

The figure watched from afar as Timmy and Spongebob followed Crocker into the back. Good – if Crocker didn't notice them (and this was Crocker – not the brightest of lightbulbs), they'd learn valuable information on Grim's setup.

Anything that set back Mr. Grim was a plus in her book.

The figure had reasons to be here – reasons buried deep in the back of her head. Suffice to say, the Grim Scrap Company had made a powerful enemy in her, for what they did to her father.

She'd been waiting for six months, preparing, training exhaustively (her new dojo had tried to coax her to cut back on training, in fact) for the time to strike. She was quickly building a new identity for herself – the one in the shadows, the one always watching.

She wore a blank mask to cover her identity – therefore, she was the Masked Girl – and that was all anybody needed to know.

The Masked Girl glanced left and right, before quietly following Timmy and Spongebob into the back.

* * *

Grim leant against the wall of the room, a condensing smirk on his face as he observed his captor, seated (and strapped to the seat) at the solitary desk. This had once been an interrogation room, used to extract information from the Tsar's enemies.

Needless to say, a lot of people had entered this room and never left.

"Are you gonna be done soon?" demanded Sandy, "You've been standing there like some kinda scrambled for about a minute now."

Grim's face darkened.

…_you idiot! You complete idiot! Get out of my sight, you piece of muck…_

"I don't appreciate that," he growled.

"Yeah, yeah, cry me a river," snapped Sandy.

Grim shook his head.

"You're here for a little experiment, Ms. Cheeks," explained Grim, "In more then one sense of the word."

Sandy raised a brow.

"Yeah?" she growled, "You really think I'm gonna break to harebrained torture?"

"Oh, no, no torture involved," grinned Grim, "Not physically, anyway, the plans we have are quick and painless. Mentally…well, let's begin."

He drew a breath.

"You are familiar with a Mr. Spongebob Squarepants, right?" he asked.

Sandy's eyes narrowed.

"If you touch so much as a…"

"He's quite safe, actually," Grim shrugged, "My agents have spotted him in Berlin. I think he's seeking you out. Admirable…but ultimately futile."

Grim paced back and forth across the small room.

"I am of the understanding – between you and me," sneered Grim, "That you are one of his closest friends. Perhaps…perhaps more."

He let out a chuckle.

"You think we're an item?" asked Sandy, tilting her head.

"No, not yet," chuckled Grim, darkly, "But I can read emotions. Your reaction when I mentioned his name was a good enough start. But as I said, he's safe…but not for long."

"Keep away from him, ya no-good, slimy maggot," snarled Sandy.

…_you maggot! You disgusting maggot! You'll pay for that! You – hold him down. Hand me that pipe…_

Grim grinded his teeth.

"I'll put this simply," he growled, "If you consent to me, I'll not harm a hole on his body. If you resist, he will be…hurt severely. I know how to deliver pain, madam."

"You know nothin' about pain," shot Sandy.

…_Feel it, boy! You feel it? _That_ is pain! _That_ is what you get, you worthless piece of scum! Stop screaming, you filthy boy! STOP SCREAMING!…_

"I know more about it then you'll ever know," snarled Grim, his face reddening, "Let me tell you – we can do this the easy way or the hard way. Like it or not, you will submit, it's simply whether or not anybody gets hurt…"

"So you'd threaten Spongebob to get me to submit," replied Sandy, "That's pretty low."

"It works," snapped Grim.

"It don't," retorted Sandy, "I think your bluffing. If you're agents are watching Spongebob, you need him alive for something. You can put your 'big ragin' bull' impression on as much as you like, but your nothin' but a worm."

…_I don't understand it. How does such a worm come into the world? Oh, don't look at me like that, I know he's worthless, you know he's worthless – hell, _he_ knows he's worthless…_

Grim's fists were clenching. Sandy took note of the warning signs, the shaking hands, the red face, the breathing – she continued to stand her ground.

"You forget," reminded Grim, "I can certainly hurt _you._"

"Go ahead and try," spat Sandy, "I figure you'd use me against Spongebob anyway. I ain't gonna budge."

She let out a chuckle.

"Y'know, you can just mosey around, laughing at the ideas of love and compassion," she sneered, "But deep down – you're never gonna get a drop of kindness in your whole life."

…_let me put it this way, Ovard. I didn't belittle you because I wanted you to do better. I belittled you because I loathe you. You are an accident, a foolish mistake, a disgusting waste of my time. Now get out of my sight, _son_…_

Grim upturned the desk and let out an infuriated roar.

He stomped over to Sandy, still tied into the chair, and clenched his fists.

Vlad was walking up from the dungeon, having been inspecting a stash of ectoplasmic weapons stored in on of the cells. He passed the interrogation room, and noted the sound of loud knocking inside.

"Grim?" he called, "Is anything wrong?"

"…_you scum, how _dare_ you! How _dare_ you mouth of Ovard Grim! _Well, how do you like it! _How do you like it!_"

Vlad's eyes widened, and he pushed open the door.

Grim was standing over Sandy (and the chair), repeatedly trashing the restrained and now unconscious squirrel on the floor. Vlad ran over to his partner and grabbed him by the collar, dragging him out of the room.

"…_you hear me?_" Grim thundered, _"You're for it now! I'll ruin you! I'll find that bloody sponge and make sure his bloody innards are spread all across bloody Europe! I'll kill him, you hear me?"_

"Mr. Grim, clam down!' shouted Vlad, shaking the infuriated man.

Grim shut his eyes, and took several heavy, deep breaths. Finally calming, he wiped the sweat from his hair.

"Apologies," he breathed, "She…hit a nerve. Augustus…my father…"

"He's dead," reminded Vlad, "That's the past. Focus on _now_."

Grim nodded.

"How bad is she?" he asked.

"You've roughed her pretty hard," replied Vlad, "Bruising, a few cuts…we'll have to run a medical, that's pretty bad…"

"Just do it," snarled Grim, "Just…one request."

Grim's eyes narrowed.

"When the conversion goes ahead," he growled, "Make sure she suffers."

He turned on his heel and walked away, leaving Vlad alone. The half-ghost stole a glance at the unconscious Sandy and shook his head.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, almost inaudibly.

He picked her up in his arms and headed for the medical bay.


	9. Chapter 8: New Factors

If you like being spoiled, try working out the codes at the end of the chapter. If you get them, PM me! (Do not post it in a review.)

Also, it's 3am. Why am I still up?

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**TweenisodeOrange:** You'd better call quickly, my friend! XD Thanks for reading.

**Zim'sMostLoyalServant:** Just wait - he'll get worse. As per the Masked Girl...all will be revealed soon enough. :D Thanks for reviewing.  
**

* * *

Chapter Eight: New Factors**

Vlad looked both ways, up and down the corridor, before entering the cold telephone room in the fortress. He breathed in, and looked for cameras. Seeing none, he picked up the phone receiver and dialled a number. He got the answering machine.

"_Hi! You've reached Danny's phone. I'm not here at the moment, leave a message!"_

Vlad breathed in, and quickly adjusted a knob on the phone. The dial should affect the tempo of the recording, making his voice unrecognisable to the younger half-ghost.

"Golf. Romeo. India. Mike. X-Ray. India. Sierra. X-Ray. India. November. X-Ray. Mike. Oscar. Sierra. Charlie. Oscar. Whiskey. X-Ray. Tango. Sierra. Alpha. Romeo. Sierra. X-Ray. Foxtrot. Oscar. Romeo. Tango. Romeo. Echo. Sierra. Sierra. X-Ray."

Vlad breathed in as he hung up the phone. His contingency plan was now in effect.

Danny played back the recorded message, scratching his head.

"What the heck was that?" he asked, taking a sip of a glass of punch he had gotten himself.

"Meh, it's probably a wrong number," shrugged Tino, "That, and a really, really weird person."

"Maybe," nodded Danny, "But I can't help but feel they have some sort of connection…"

His mind clicked.

"Wait a minute," he realised, "I remember this from a book about NASA. I think it's the NATO alphabet!"

"So?" shrugged Bloo.

"It's a code," replied Danny, "Just take the first letter of the word and ignore the rest…"

He played back the message, on reduced speed.

"…Grim-ex-is-ex-in-ex…" began Tino.

"Ignore the X's," explained Danny, "They're spaces."

"Grim is in Moscow," recited Tino, "Tuh-Ssars Fortress."

"That's not right!" snapped Bloo, "It's Tars. The 'S' is silent."

Danny shook his head, and sighed.

* * *

Timmy was in a dark corridor, hiding behind a wall and looking into a conference room. Behind him, Spongebob was leaning in, trying to hear the conversations inside the room.

Crocker stood at the end of the large table and cleared his throat. He began to speak.

"The convention of lieutenants is now in effect," he stated, "Skulker, can you start us off?"

"Yeah," nodded the hulking mechanical ghost as he stood up, "My trip to Washington was largely unnecessary. The humans haven't picked up the mental disorientation wave yet. There's one organisation after us, but they're not a threat."

"The Guys in White," nodded a woman in a red business suit, "What a joke."

"They're not the main problem, Spectra," a human-like being in a blue and red diving suit snapped, "Intel suggests that the fairies have gotten wind of Grim's plan. They'll probably work to stop him."

"Wait," mused Crocker, "Did you say…fairies? _Fairies?_"

"Oh, for crying out loud," moaned the being.

"_FAIRY GOD PARENTS!_" screamed Crocker, twitching violently.

"Nice going, ManRay," snapped Skulker, "You set him off."

"Look," intervened Spectra, "The fairies aren't the main problem. We just got word from Tanzania. The mercenaries failed to get those kids and that sponge."

"Why are _they _so important?" demanded the final person at the table – a small, bug-like creature who was standing on the table itself, "They're just kids!"

"Plankton," breathed Spongebob.

"They're chosen," replied Skulker, gravely, "It's foretold that only they can take down Grim."

"Five of them," added ManRay, "One to hold their vices, one to hold their strengths, one to hold their rationality, one to hold their spirit…"

"…and one to end the Grim," finished Spectra.

"It's not going to happen," shrugged Crocker, recovering from his spastic attack, "Turner couldn't fight his way out of a paper bag! Have you _seen_ his grades?"

Timmy rolled his eyes.

"What does it matter?" demanded Plankton, "We'll finish with the ball and head on to Grim. The alibi's been set – that's the last obstacle."

Timmy gave a grin, and turned to face Spongebob.

"Wanna wreck their alibi?" he asked.

"You mean crash a party full of rich powerful people without being arrested by the police?" replied Spongebob.

"Yep," nodded Timmy.

"OK!" grinned Spongebob.

The two walked back down the hall to the main hall.

* * *

Codes, codes, everywhere.

_23-6-20-16-15-10-5-2 10-20 21-9-6 14-2-20-12-6-5 8-10-19-13_

Bishop sighed as he checked the GiW's computer systems. It was an odd experience. Things that should be coded were not. Things they shouldn't be coded were. It could be very confusing.

_I hae never been a quitter. To eve office before my term is completed is abhorrent to every instinct in my boy. But a President, I must put the interest of merica firs. Ameic needs a full-time Presden and a full-time Cngess, particularly at this time with problems we face at home and abroad…_

Bishop clicked on a link, displaying Danny Fenton's profile before the GiW. Average kid, by all standards. Why JSOC was making him follow these nutjobs as they terrorised people for intel on the boy was an enigma.

_LZW GFW AF LZW ESKC AK FGL GFW GX MK._

Bishop shook his head, and closed the laptop. It wasn't his job to go insane, it was his job to make sure these two goons didn't get themselves into trouble.

After all, it couldn't be too hard on him, compared to Afghanistan…right?

_Hail and remember, Augustus Caesar, first emperor of the Romans.

* * *

_I KEEP HEARING THOSE F***ING NUMBERS! D:


	10. Chapter 9: The Setup

Hi-ho! Hi-ho! It's back to work I go!

Sorry for the dely. It involved reviews, and Christmas Nazi-shooting sprees. XD Anyway, this chapter has a pretty dark scene - just a warning.

Review replies;

**TweenisodeOrange:** Bishop's life will improve, don't worry. I have a pretty...unique way for the party crashing. Thanks for reading!

**Zim'sMostLoyalServant:** Well, save for one, the codes aren't exactly hugely complex...just look at them for a bit, and you may find them. (On the other hand, one of them is Enigma, so even I can't work it out without help. XDD) Vlad has turned on Grim...but that doesn't mean he's turned good. Thanks for reviewing!  
**

* * *

Chapter Nine: The Setup**

Danny hid under the main table, trying to hide from sight and looking rather incredulous at what he was about to do.

"So let me get this straight?" he asked into a ham radio they had 'borrowed' from a security guard, "We're going to set these off all over the room, just so that everyone thinks there's a gas leak?"

"_Yep,_" replied Timmy, "_I can't believe Bloo came up with this…almost like he's done this before, to be honest._"

"Wouldn't surprise me," deadpanned Danny.

"_Anyway, if everyone gets evacuated due to a gas leak, Crocker and the rest can't claim that they were here all day, because they had to leave. Simple?"_

"OK, when did you start being the smart one?"

There was a short pause.

"_I'll see you outside,_" snapped Timmy.

Danny rolled his eyes and looked at the stink bomb in his hand. He placed it on the ground, covered his nose, shielded his eyes, and slammed his fist on it.

Outside, the group grinned as the security guards shepherded the guests outside, subduing panic as they did so.

Danny stumbled outside, spluttering as he ambled towards them.

"I set mine off," he groaned, as the other covered their noses.

"Danny," reminded Tino, "These things have _fuses_, you know."

Danny grimaced.

"I haven't used one of those things in five years," he snapped, "How was I supposed to know?"

"Guys, guys," soothed Spongebob, "Does it matter? Now we've just gotta find the Grim!"

"Easier said then done," sighed Timmy, "We haven't got any idea where he's supposed to be! He could be in the Arctic for all we know!"

"Actually," grinned Danny, "We _do_ know where he is. He's in Moscow. I got a coded message from one of his henchmen. Even if it's a trap, we know where he is."

"How do we get to Moscow?" demanded Timmy.

There was a long silence.

"Yeah, that's the hard part," sighed Danny.

"It's not _that_ hard!" exclaimed Bloo, "Danny can just fly us there!"

"Fly?" snapped Danny, "You expect me to carry four people? Are you nut…"

Danny glanced at a small mini as he ranted…and had an idea.

* * *

The White Jet thundered over Berlin, maintaining stealth technology to keep it from being seen (the last thing America wanted was an incident with the Germans.) Bishop leaned against the back wall of the cockpit as the two GiW agents hovered over the controls.

"You know," Bishop wondered, idly, "I've started to realise why the Pentagon's so worried about you guys…"

The operatives ignored him.

"We have a blip on radar," announced Operative O.

"If this is another helicopter, I swear…" began Bishop.

"Negative," replied K, "It's too small. I believe this is Phantom."

Bishop looked out the window.

His jaw dropped.

Danny Phantom was soaring above the clouds, far into the distance. He was carrying a mini above his, and was managing to keep with the speed of the aircraft.

"Visual ID on Phantom," nodded K, "Prepare the missiles, we're bringing him down."

"Down?" snapped Bishop, "How do you know there isn't anyone in that car?"

"Heat signatures are picking up four non-ectoplasmic entities," agreed O, "Recommend firing regardless. The end justifies the means."

Bishop slapped him.

"You'd risk civilian casualties to take down one ghost?" he thundered, "Damn it, operative, this isn't a Western! You're not a Texas Ranger, and you do not get to make this decision!"

"The Marine Corps does not hold authority over the GiW," argued O, "Preparing to fire in three…two…"

K turned to his comrade.

"Belay that," he ordered, "We'll tail him. Try to catch him on his own."

O stared for a moment, before nodding.

Following Phantom, they thundered across the Polish border, away from Germany and into the eastern twilight.

* * *

It was funny how magic could modify things.

Merc was listening to a modified MP3 player, which was picking up the GiW's communications. His eyes widened as he realised where they were going.

"He's gonna try to take on Grim," he shuddered, "Kid won't last five seconds…"

Quickly but covertly, he waved his wand.

"_Attention passengers,_" the pilot radioed from the cockpit, _"Due to massive fog over Central Europe, we are diverting to Moscow Domodedovo International. Connection flights will be available. We apologise for the inconvenience."_

"How are we supposed to get to Timmy now?" exclaimed Mrs. Turner.

"Oh…uh…I just got an update from the…the District Attorney!" replied Merc, quickly, "Timmy's been roped by the Moscow Police, h-he'll be fine."

"Oh," nodded Mr. Turner, "That's convenient. Lucky us! Lucky, lucky us!"

Merc nodded, wiping some sweat from his brow. He could only speed the plane up so much before people noticed. He simply had to hope that they got to Timmy before Grim.

* * *

"You're all complete idiots," snapped Grim.

He paced the video conference room as Crocker and Spectra hurriedly tried to explain themselves.

"I-it's not our fault," quivered Crocker, "There was a gas-leak. We only just got out of questioning for it!"

Grim sighed.

"Wait for Plankton to get out, and get over here," he ordered, "The rest can spend the whole night with the Germans, for all I care."

"Yes sir," nodded Spectra, far cooler then her associate, "I can get them there."

She assumed her shadow form for a few seconds, causing Crocker to give a startled yelp and edge away.

"Very good," sighed Grim, "Cut the transmission."

The video feed was cut.

Grim sat his chair and placed his head in his hands. It had been an exhausting day, but everything was coming to a head.

"_Ovard, what the hell are you doing here? You've already ruined me. What do want now?_"

Grim's expression changed as another memory of his father entered his head.

"_That's no way to treat your betters, _Augustus_. I'm here for a little…resolution with my past."_

"_What's that supposed to mean?"_

This time, Grim was not anguished, or even irritated. A little grin crossed his face.

"_The company doesn't need you anymore, Augustus."_

"_You've already deposed me, Ovard. You can't do that twice."_

"_I've cut the video feed. I suppose you know what happens next."_

_He takes out the gun._

Grim sits back, his eyes filled with mirth.

"_What the hell is this? Why are you doing this? I'm your father, Ovard, please!"_

"_Father?"_

"_Please! Have mercy, Ovard! I don't…"_

"_You want mercy, do you? …this _is_ mercy."_

_He pulls the trigger._

Grim gave a laugh. It was an eerie, soulless laugh that echoed throughout the fortress as the sun dipped below the horizon.

Down in the dungeon, Tootie feared for her life.

* * *

The Masked Girl stood outside the function hall. She gave a grin, invisible beyond the plastic facade. Timmy hadn't needed her help – yet. He hadn't know, but she'd known him for a long time now.

And his friend, the bald one – he knew who she was. He'd provided her with a few choice gadgets. He'd been far more helpful then she'd ever expected…and he had grown closer then she'd ever expected, to.

But this was not about Timmy or AJ, not deep down.

Now it was time to move against the man who had so wronged her family.

The Masked Girl slunk into the shadows, and with an electrical hum, she vanished without a trace.

* * *

I think Grim may be the most utterly inhuman villain I've ever written - and I wrote for _Dan._ What do you think?


	11. Chapter 10: Enter Mother Russia

Finally, we're in Russia! The action really gets started here!

...after this chapter, which is largely exposition.

Review replies;

**TweenisodeOrange:** Well, I'm glad he's left an impression. :\ Thanks for reading!

**Zim'sMostLoyalServant:** Well, neither the Turners nor the GiW are very bright, and Bishop's a good guy. :) The Masked Girl will be revealed, don't worry... Thanks for the review!  
**

* * *

ACT III – Evening**

**Chapter Ten: Enter Mother Russia**

Merc led the Turner parents out of the departure lounge and into the main airport terminal. It had been a long flight, even with magic, and Merc was glad to be off the plane.

"_Mister i Missis Turner?_"

The group glanced to their left. A large man in a suit was striding towards them, holding a sign with the word 'Turner' written on it.

"I'm from the FSB," the man introduced, "I'm here to take you to your son."

"Great!" grinned Mrs. Turner, "Can we go now."

"Da," nodded the man, "I have a car waiting, we'll head into Moscow. Your son is being held for his protection at Lubyanka Square."

He glanced at Merc, somewhat disdainfully.

"You will not be required or allowed to come, American," he sneered.

He strode away. The Turners gave Merc naïve waves, and walked after him.

Merc shook his head at the agent's rudeness, and began to head for a secluded location. His job, it seemed, was done, and he was looking forward to returning to Fairy World.

On his way to the bathroom, he passed a security officer, who was scratching his head.

"Odd, isn't it Yankee?" he said aloud.

"What is?" asked Merc.

"The FSB are the internal police," replied the officer, "They wouldn't usually handle missing persons. Also, FSB wouldn't dress like that…"

Merc's eyes widened as he realised what had probably just happened.

"I think I need a cab," he breathed.

"I think you're going to be fired," added the officer.

* * *

"Well," shrugged Danny, "We've fought mercenaries in Africa, crashed a corporate function and committed airborne grand theft auto. What next?"

The sun had long gone down, and the group stood ankle deep in snow in Red Square. Having abandoned the trench-coats and hats, they really felt the cold.

"How about freeze to death in the Russian winter?" asked Bloo, dryly.

"We're not gonna be out for long," reassured Spongebob, "We've just gotta find this Grim guy's headquarters."

"But this is Moscow!" snapped Danny, "You know – the biggest city in Europe? How are we supposed to find…"

"Is it that one?" asked Tino.

He pointed a few hundred yards down the road at a huge, decrepit fortress, guarded by men in black uniforms.

"…that's a pretty good hunch," nodded Timmy, slowly.

"Right, so what're we gonna do, waltz in the front door?" demanded Bloo, "They're not just gonna let us in…"

"They don't have to. We're gonna fly over."

Timmy pointed to a small checkpoint on the side of the road.

A squad of soldiers were preparing a checkpoint on the side of the road for a military march the next morning, to celebrate a national occasion. Sitting idly behind them on a makeshift helipad was an attack helicopter.

Tino blinked.

"He's kidding, right?"

There was nod reply.

"Tell me we're not…" implored Tino.

"I reckon I could fly that," mused Danny.

Tino groaned.

"We're all gonna die," he lamented.

* * *

Above them, perched on the roof of an office building, K, O and Bishop were watched them from afar. The two agents held binoculars to their eyes, while Bishop looked at his watch.

"Mi-24E Hind Attack Helicopter," K noted, "Low troop carrying capacity, Shturm rockets, heavy cannon. Looks like the Ghost is going after it. Maybe he's gathering intelligence?"

"Like you are, Operative?"

The three turned around. A Spetsnaz officer was holding a gun at them, flanked by several well-armed, angry looking soldiers. The officer was grinning, looking unfazed by the apparent act of espionage.

"Back off," snapped O, "This is US Government jurisdiction. If you do not back off, we will use harmful force."

Bishop buried his head in his hands.

"Your government," rebutted the officer, "Gave me your location. They think your overstepping your boundaries, interfering with the Grim Investigation."

"The Grim Investigation?" quizzed Bishop.

The officer nodded.

"Now, if you won't listen to Spetsnaz," he continued, "Maybe you'll listen to Force Recon. Sergeant Gavin?"

A US Marine stepped into view, shaking his head.

"Hey LT," he grinned, "Still stuck with these guys?"

"Gavin?" quizzed Bishop, "But…"

"We'll talk later," shrugged Gavin, "Right now, we're gonna need to get you to base. I'd say I'd have to sedate you if you resist, but I don't think you are."

Bishop glanced at the two operatives.

"Hey," he sneered, "These guys look unruly."

"That is not true!" thundered K, "We are acting perfectly in…"

Two soldiers walked up to the operatives, and nonchalantly punched them out.

Bishop fell to his knees.

"Finally," he chuckled, "_Silence._"

* * *

Anyone ever taken a joyride in an attack helicopter?

No?

Yeah, me neither.


	12. Chapter 11: Helicopter Joy Ride

We're really getting to the climax here - also, recommended lisetening for the helicopter: http : / / www . youtube . com / watch ? v = GGU1P6lBW6Q

Review replies;

**Zim'sMostLoyalServant:** Yeah, that bit was fun to write. :D Thanks for reading!

**TweenisodeOrange:** Sorry about that - I wanted to use the fired joke. :P Here is a helicopter ride to make up for it! Thanks for the review.

**

* * *

Chapter Eleven: Helicopter Joy Ride**

The Hind sat on the side of the road, the frost melting into its bright-grey winter coat. Its pilot sat on the wing, playing with his watch.

His co-pilot strode up to him and pointed behind him.

"Dasha, I'm done with the can," he explained.

"Finally," growled Dasha, "I've been waiting forever!"

Dasha headed for the small portable toilet used by the troops for business. He yawned as he shut the door behind him.

"Sorry, man," a voice apologised, "I'm gonna have to borrow you for a minute."

A teenaged boy materialised before him. Dasha opened his mouth to scream, but was silenced as the boy literally flew into his body.

_

* * *

Act natural_, Danny thought to himself.

He walked up to the helicopter, the others sticking close to him. The co-pilot raised an eyebrow as they approached.

"You're being followed by civvies," he noted.

"Uh…_da_," nodded Danny, "They're…cadets, but we didn't have any uniforms for them. I'm supposed to run them through the controls of th-the Hind."

"Babysitting, huh?" mused the co-pilot, "Alright. I guess I'll have to mingle with the _krutil__'__nyi__̆__ otboi__̆__nyi__̆__ yas_ for a while, then. _Uvidimsya pozzhe_."

The co-pilot ambled away.

"Oh, by the way," he announced, turning around.

Danny gulped.

"Nice costumes," complimented the co-pilot, and he went on his way.

Spongebob and Bloo glanced at each other.

"OK, here goes," gulped Danny.

He climbed into the cockpit and strapped himself in, while the others climbed into the back.

"Hold on, guys," called Danny, "This is gonna suck."

Danny's experience at flying helicopters came from the same computer simulation that had taught him to land a space shuttle – save for the fact that unlike the shuttle simulation, Danny rarely used helicopters. He could access the pilot's knowledge, but he still felt nerves as he activated the engine.

His knuckles turned white as he clutched the stick. Slowly, the Hind raised into the air, the tremendous noise deafening anyone without earplugs unlucky enough to be close by.

"OK, the easy part is over," shuddered Danny, "Wish me luck…"

He pushed forward on the helicopter.

The nose of the Hind rocked downwards. Giving a startled yelp, Danny pulled on the stick, and the nose raised violently. Panicking, Danny pushed forward again, somewhat more delicately. The helicopter began to float forward, heading for the fortress.

"…and there we go," sighed Danny, "Should be clear sailing from here…"

There was a sudden flash from the fortress. Danny gave another scream and pushed the stick to the right. The helicopter veered to the right as a rocket thundered past.

"What was that?" Spongebob called from the back.

"I think they know we're coming!" Danny called back.

Danny glanced to his left. A small automated SAM (Surface to Air Missile) battery had been set up on the ramparts of the fortress, and was being reloaded to fire again. With a burst of smoke, another missile was fired. Danny jerked the stick to left and towards him, and the chopper rocked out of the way.

"Alright, is that how you wanna play it," snarled Danny.

He turned the helicopter to face the SAMs, and pulled the trigger on the stick. Two rockets were fired from under the wings of the Hind. With a loud _boom_, the battery exploded.

Danny brought the chopper forwards, halting it over the roof of the fortress. He gulped once more. He'd reached the hardest part – landing.

Gently working the pedals below him, Danny lowered the helicopter over the roof. However, the helicopter was still moving forward slowly when he landed and with a loud _crack_, the landing gear snapped off. The chopper slithered roughly forward towards the edge of the icy roof.

It glided to the end of the roof…and came to a halt just a few millimetres before falling.

Danny wiped his drenched brow, and unbuckled himself.

"Thank you for flying Air Fenton," he groaned, "Never make me do that again."

* * *

"Combined operations, Lieutenant."

The Major from the Green Berets paced before Bishop, his men and the GiW, who were packed in a small, frostbitten office in the Moscow CBG. Bishop scowled – the Major was drenched in an aura of arrogance.

"This son of a b***h Grim has stolen from us," continued the Major, "Several pieces of advanced technology disappeared from…an airbase in Nevada earlier this week. Around the same time, Ivan lost a few…fragments from a base at Tunguska, in Siberia. "We want our s**t back, Lieutenant, and we're willing to work together to get it."

He gave the Force Recon men a disdainful glare.

"Major Ivanov and I have talked, and we've come to a strategic conclusion," he continued, "You'll be working alongside forces of the Moscow Military District to cut off the fortress and keep the defenders busy, while we'll join the Spetsnaz and infiltrate the premises. All goes well, we'll have this done by midnight."

"Sir," interrupted Sergeant Mark Gavin, "We're Force Recon. Wouldn't it be a good idea to send us to get Grim?"

"No it would not," snapped the Major, "You don't have the expertise we need for this mission. Now, you're gonna wait here for further orders. Operatives, follow me."

The Major walked out of the room, the GiW reluctantly following.

"What an a**hole!" exclaimed Sergeant Ted Morrissey.

"I don't know," mused Sergeant Patrick O'Reilly, "The b*****d does have a point. I mean, nobody here wants their a*se shot off, do they?"

"Oh, so you _like_ being dragged halfway across the world to baby-sit Spec Ops?" demanded Sergeant Gregorio Rourke.

"…this been going on for long, Baker?" asked Bishop.

"Ever since you left, LT," shrugged Sergeant James Baker.

There was a sudden knock at the door. Bishop sighed, and walked up to open.

"Sir, what…" he began.

It was not, however, the Major. It was a fellow in a blue hat, looking somewhat worried.

"Listen, don't ask how I got in here," he began, "The name's Merc, and I need your help."

* * *

Grim left the dungeon, a smug grin on his face. He did not, however, ascend to the main castle. He instead took a left, down a corridor towards a large door labelled 'DO NOT ENTER.'

The Turners had arrived, which was fine enough, but small on the grand scheme of things. He had Tootie in his grasp, and those fools seeking to bring him down had quite literally flown to his wrath. Everything was coming together.

Grim entered the secret room, unaware of the invisible eyes watching him.

Vlad shook his head as he reappeared.

"Sorry, Ovard," he snarled, "But I'm afraid your little empire is about to fall apart…"

* * *

Everything begins to come together...


	13. Chapter 12: Infiltration By Night

This chapter took an age to write. :|

Review replies;

**TweenisodeOrange:** ...can't say that name fills me with confidence. :P Thanks for reading!

**Zim'sMostLoyalServant:** I certainly enjoyed writing that bit. :D Thanks for reviewing!

**

* * *

Chapter Eleven: Infiltration By Night**

At about nine o'clock in the evening (Moscow Time), thirteen Green Beret and Spetsnaz operatives crept into the sewers underneath Grim's Fortress.

At the same time, Merc (still under the guise of a police sheriff) had led Lt. Bishop, his men and a very reluctant O and K into a secret passage into the same building, leading from a disused lavatory in the Kremlin.

At the same time, Vlad Masters had gathered Spectra, Crocker and Plankton in the conference room of the fortress, to 'convince' them that betraying Grim would be in their interests.

At the same time, the Masked Girl, disguised as one of Grim's security detail, simply walked in the front gate.

At the same time, Timmy, Danny, Spongebob, Tino and Bloo crept through the air vents, mumbling in annoyance as they stepped on each other in the darkness.

At the same time, Ovard Grim sat in the secret room, grinning to himself as his plan came together.

* * *

"OK, first question," demanded Rourke, "Why have we loaded up with paintball pellets?"

"That ain't you're average pellet, Rourke," replied Bishop, "Riot cops use that stuff. Up here are just hired guns and mercenaries – we don't need to start a bloodbath if we don't need to."

"Second question," added O'Reilly, "When the Major finds out about this, how are we explaining this before a court martial?"

"He's _not_ going to find out," snapped Gavin, "Even if he does, if what Merc here says is true, he's gonna need our help."

"Alright," nodded Rourke, "I'll go with it. But if you're wrong, Merc…"

The group was huddled at the end of the dark secret passage, preparing to enter the main fortress. According to the Major's floor-plan (which had _mysteriously_ ended up in Rourke's hands), they could make their way through a few small back rooms to get to the dungeon stairwell, and could therefore avoid a sustained firefight.

"OK," ordered Bishop, "Morrissey and Baker are on point. Quiet takedowns only."

The two marines nodded, clutching police batons in their hands. Stealthily, they opened the door.

Two of Grim's security stood in a generator room, their backs turned to the marines. One had a cigarette lit, and they were arguing about something in Russian.

A quick movement, and two whacks to the back of the head brought them down.

"Room clear," hissed Morrissey.

"Gavin, O'Reilly, you're up," nodded Bishop.

As the marines and GiW to the next door, Merc glanced at the floor. He knew Grim was preparing for something in the dungeon.

He was doing something, but the fairies had no idea what. And that scared him more then anything.

* * *

The Masked Girl strode down the dungeon stairs and into a corridor, where she was stopped by a man in black riot armour.

"No further, mercenary," he snarled, "This is restricted to security officers of the Grim Scrap Company…"

"…a scrap company that owns a fortress?" quizzed the Masked Girl, brow raised.

"It's a very rich company," nodded the man.

The Masked Girl nodded.

"That's nice," she shrugged, "How's Grim paying you, _Adams?_ Any better then dad did?"

The guard did a double-take.

"You!" he exclaimed, "You're…"

The Masked Girl slapped him across the face. Surprised and disorientated, Adams was unable to respond as the Masked Girl booted him in the stomach and forced him to the ground.

"You remember Timmy Turner?" snarled the Masked Girl, "You remember AJ?"

Adams squirmed as the Masked Girl kicked him in the shin.

"This is for them, and for my parents," hissed the Masked Girl, "Understand that?"

Adams gave a weak nod.

"Good," nodded the Masked Girl, "Goodnight."

She punched him in the face and he blacked out.

* * *

"There're twenty-six members of Grim's security," explained Merc, as the group walked down another stairwell, "They all represent a letter of the alphabet – there's Adams, Belkhov, Conlin…"

"Yeah, 26, we've got you," snarled K, "Have they attempted research in ghost hunting?"

"I swear to god…" groaned Bishop, burying his head in his hands.

"A little," replied Merc, "They wrangled Axion into a few ecto-weapon projects a few months ago, when Masters started working with Grim…"

"Wait, _Masters?_ Vlad Masters?" repeated Baker.

There was the sudden clicking of guns.

Standing at the foot of the stairwell were four men in black riot armour. Each was holding an assault rifle, and each was aiming at the group.

"So, how're those paintball pellets sounding now?" demanded Rourke.

A man pushed his way out from behind his troops. He wore a white suit and fedora.

He also had no skin – just bone, with a skeletal skull sneering at them.

"Ghost!" barked O.

"Glad you noticed," replied the ghost, rolling his eyes, "Name's Walker. These are Edwards, Guo, Orlov and Jackson – we're the law down here."

"Law?" snapped Merc, "You've stolen from Area 51! And Tunguska! And A…"

Merc quickly stopped himself.

"You mean _Atlantis_, fairy?" sneered Walker, "Yes, you know about that, don't you? And the Far Frozen, don't forget that."

"OK, you're completely barmy," deadpanned O'Reilly.

"You've really pulled the wool over their eyes, haven't you Merc," chuckled Walker, "I mean, here they are, talking to a ghost in a dungeon after they've already seen a boy fly a car and people erased from existence, and they still don't believe in fairies."

Walker gave a guffaw.

"But enough of that," he said at last, "Grim wants to see you, which is why we haven't splattered you across that staircase. So unless you want to die today, I'd recommend you hand over your weapons."

Rourke gave a nod.

"OK," he shrugged, "I'll let you have it."

He fired his gun.

A red and white pellet slammed into Walker's chest, winding him and sending him flying backwards.

O'Reilly and Gavin fired their own pellets, sending two of the men – Orlov and Edwards – stumbling backwards into a low hanging pipe.

One of the other men – this one was Jackson – opened fire with his gun, but missed. The two GiW operatives, having pulled out ectoplasmic pistols, fired two shots. With a heavy thump, an ectoplasmic glob hit Jackson in the head, and he fell to the ground.

Bishop, grasping a police baton, jumped forward on top of the final trooper – Guo – and clobbered him in the kneecaps. Before Guo could recover, Bishop swing at his head and knocked him out cold.

"Alright," he snapped, "Keep moving, the armoury's around the corner and…"

They turned the corner.

Ten of the riot-armoured soldiers aimed their rifles at them.

"Drop it!" barked one of them (Denis).

Bishop gave a snort, and threw his baton to the ground.

"Aw, son of a…"

* * *

Grim watched a security feed on his computer in the secret room. This was merely the entrance foyer to a much larger bunker, in which troopers P (Petrovich) to Z (Zhang) would be waiting to clean up the Green Berets and Spetsnaz, when they arrived.

There was a clunk, and the air-vent cover fell from the roof.

A blue blob and a yellow sponge fell from the roof to the ground.

"Yeah, nice one, Timmy," an irate voice snapped, "_Real _quiet."

"Oh yeah?" Timmy snapped back, "I'd like to see you try it, Tino!"

Timmy jumped from the roof (landing on the blue blob in the process.)

He looked up.

"Good afternoon, Mr. Turner," said Grim, brightly.

"Aw crud," cursed Timmy.

* * *

For anyone keeping record, Adams was the guard in Chapter Three. :P

Next chapter will be a pretty wordy one, but it's where the whole plot comes together, so it should be rewarding. :D


	14. Chapter 13: The Truth Revealed

Well, we're getting close to the end now!

Review replies;

**TweenisodeOrange:** Well, he _is _a pretty creepy guy. :| Thanks for reading!

**Zim'sMostLoyalServant:** Well, he's got a point. :D Thanks for reviewing!  
**

* * *

**

**Chapter Twelve: The Truth Revealed**

The small room was now rather crowded. With Timmy, Danny, Spongebob, Bloo, Tino, the Marines, the GiW and Merc all tied to chairs along the wall, and Grim was pacing before them.

"Rather crowded, isn't it?" noted Grim, "How many enemies have I made recently?"

"Try two of the most powerful countries on Earth," spat Bishop.

"The US and Russia?" quizzed Grim, "Non-entities. These walls would hold off even the toughest of Special Forces."

He shook his head.

"It will take two hours to enter this fortress through the heavily booby-trapped sewer," explained Grim, "By which time, my plan will already be completed."

"What plan?" demanded Danny, "You're a businessman! How the heck do you wipe people from the face of the Earth?"

"With science, of course," replied Grim, "Very ancient science. Vladimir managed to get the device I required to perform the teleport from the Atlanteans quite easily, too."

"Wait, teleport?" quizzed Bloo.

"Certainly," nodded Grim, "In fact, if you hadn't made a beeline for me, you'd most likely have been able to set most of them free."

He gave a snort.

"More fool you."

"You still haven't told us the plan, ye English…" snapped O'Reilly.

"Hold your tongue, paddy," sneered Grim, ignoring a death glare from the Irish marine, "The plan is simple…and ultimately, should count as a humanitarian mission."

"Yeah, because kidnapping and theft are _so_ charitable," glowered Rourke.

"I have reasons," continued Grim, "You see, I was a miserable child. My mother quite intelligently abandoned my father, Augustus, when I was an infant. Augustus took it hard, and therefore I got it hard. For years, I tried to impress him, believing he was ruthless because he wanted me to do great things…"

Grim clenched his fist.

"Then, when I was nine, I found that his abuse was simply because of hate – hate to me, hate to his colleagues, hate to the world; _aimless, useless _hate!"

Grim calmed a little.

"The revelation tore me apart," he continued, "I fell into seclusion, trapped in my own home…and that's when I received them."

Grim sneered.

"Turner, you and I are not so different," he growled, "Except unlike your spineless excuses for fairies, I got one of use."

"My fairies are _not_ spineless!" barked Timmy.

There was a short silence.

"…that's what I'd say if I had fairies, of course," he added, very quickly.

"Don't be coy, Turner," snapped Grim, "You've been playing the high-roller from the start of this mess, and that's earlier then you think. You were bound to lose something."

He shook his head, and continued to speak.

"The man called himself Big Daddy," added Grim, "You might have heard of him. He stayed with me for six years, teaching me to be ruthless, to be assertive, to be above the rank and file. Then, when I was fifteen…something happened. It was called the Falklands War."

"I watched the news," sighed Grim, "The _Belgrano_, the _Sheffield,_ Goose Green; I heard of death, and pain, and suffering. In my naivety, I asked why the fairies did not intervene. His answer was as blunt as could be – humans weren't important to them."

He gave a scowl.

"The fairy godparenting program is a way for Von Strangle to suppress humanity," he snarled, "My childhood traumas, the war in the Falklands, all the pain and suffering – they had to power to make it go away. Instead, they handed this vast power to people like me, people Jorgen suspected to misuse the vast power we had gained."

He shook his head.

"Fairies only go to the miserable," he chuckled humourlessly, "Have you ever wondered, Turner, why there are so few 'fairyversaries?'"

"That's not true!" thundered Merc, "We don't pick kids for being bad or irresponsible, we…"

"That's a lie," rebutted Grim, "And all the higher-ups in Fairy World know it."

Grim turned his back, and kept talking.

"So I left," he replied, "I disavowed my father and my godfather. I wandered Thatcher's Britain for four years with no money and no idea where to go. I ended up in Scotland…I did things that most would regret for a dark, fanged man who told me I was the future of humanity."

He gave another dark stare to his captives.

"I returned to my father's headquarters in Carlisle," he stated, "I led the board in a hostile takeover. I got his wealth, his power…and eventually his life."

He gave a disturbing grin.

"Flash forward to last January, when I met Vlad Masters."

"Vlad Masters?" quizzed Gavin, "The billionaire?"

"The very same," nodded Grim, "He had things I wanted, I had things he wanted. We made a good business relationship."

"What's a bad business relationship?" demanded Tino, "Blowing up Canada?"

Grim ignored him.

"I've already mentioned the Atlanteans, whom I stole technology from," explained Grim, "The Far Frozen had the recorded knowledge, even if I failed to locate the Infi-Map…"

"The Infi-Map is missing?" asked Danny.

"Don't play dumb with me," deadpanned Grim, "I know exactly who has it, and I'm looking at him right now."

"So you used the tech from Atlantis and this 'Far Frozen' to take our friends and make it look like you erased them from history," mused Timmy, "But why us?"

"I assume you've heard the prophecy by now," replied Grim, "Only you can defeat the Grim – so I made measures to ensure your arrival here would occur to my own plan."

"But we'd never have found out about this if you hadn't taken our friends," Bloo pointed out, "That's a dumb plan."

"Yes, because I'm certainly failing, having you tied to chairs right now," nodded Grim, rolling his eyes, "Now that I have you, I have eliminated my most significant opposition…"

"Sir!"

Another of the black-clad soldiers marched into the room, carrying the Masked Girl by the collar.

"Caught this one sneaking about the dungeon, sir," he barked, "She was heading for the power generators."

"Trying to put us in the dark, eh?" mused Grim, "Nice work, Kennedy."

"That's not all, sir," added Kennedy, "Fyodor found this one near the armoury."

Another soldier walked in – carrying an exact duplicate of the Masked Girl.

There was a short silence.

Then Grim gave a cackle.

"I should have seen this coming," he sneered, "Of course _they'd_ have noticed – I'm using their stuff, after all. Kennedy, take off the masks."

The soldier complied, tearing off both of the masks.

"You?" gasped Timmy.

It was Veronica. All both of them.

"…the hell?" quizzed Baker.

"Duplicate!" snapped K, "It's a ghost!"

Bishop gave a heavy sigh.

"Not quite," corrected Grim, approaching the first Veronica, "One of these is not like the other. I watched you on the cameras when you came in, Ms. Star – your techniques are quite impressive, given the limited time you've had to learn them. They're also…off. Similar to the training program of a certain galactic empire, in fact."

He shook his head.

"So you can turn of that damned fak-i-fier, Mr. Chang," he snapped.

The second 'Veronica' shook 'her' head.

"Well, that's a bummer," 'she' groaned.

'She' pulled up her shirt a short way, revealing a pink belt with a dial on it. 'She' rotated it, and shifted into the form of Mark Chang.

"'Sup, Timmy?" he greeted.

"…that is wrong in so many ways," shuddered Tino.

"OK, your turn for exposition," demanded Grim, "How did this 'Masked Girl' arrangement come to be?"

"Well, dad got fired, I got kicked out of the popular crowd, he was unpopular and we kinda went from there," shrugged Veronica.

"You mean you're…" began Danny, looking mortified.

"Of course not!" snapped Mark, "I have eyes only for Vicky!"

"_Charming_," snarled Grim, "Now, I suppose _you_ want answers as well."

"Yeah," growled Veronica, "Why'd you fire dad?"

"Your father was Vice-President of the Tang Corporation," replied Grim, "When Richard Tang sold it to me, I liquidated it for its net value. Everyone was fired, not just your family."

"Why'd you need the money?" demanded Veronica.

"I didn't," shrugged Grim, "After DALV, the Tang Corporation was the largest corporate group in the United States. I needed it silenced – I needed to strengthen my own monopoly over America's economy. Having this monopoly caused the economy to weaken, and that caused the world governments to pay less attention to me. All a distraction, really."

"Why did you need a distraction?" demanded Bishop, "Why did you rob two government installations?"

"For Yugopotamian technology, held by America and Russia," replied Grim.

He elaborated.

"In 1908, the Yugopotamian Empire tested a new weapon on the Earth," he explained, "We know this as the Tunguska Event, which destroyed a large patch of rural Siberia. In 1947, a Yugopotamian scout ship crashed at Roswell. I stole the remains of these technologies, and built a weapon."

"But Tunguska was huge," mused Bishop, "What're you gonna…oh my god."

"Yes, I think it's all come together," nodded Grim, "At midnight tonight, Moscow time, I will fire my weapon from a modified television satellite just above orbit. It will fire on nine targets – Washington, New York, London, Brussels, Moscow, St. Petersburg, Beijing, Hong Kong and Tokyo. The world will be crippled, and will be forced to unite."

"Under your rule," growled Danny.

"For good cause," shrugged Grim, "Once united, humanity will have no need to fight over race, or religion, or country. We can focus our energies on the true enemies."

He gave a dark grin.

"Fairies. Ghosts. Those monsters you call imaginary friends," he sneered, "I will fight a war of conquest in the name of humanity. Fairy World will be burned, the Ghost Zone wiped clean of all 'life'. The city of Bikini Bottom will be destroyed. I will burn, and shoot, and kill."

He glared at his captives.

Simply put," he finished, "All the non-humans who have exploited and spied on us will either join with us…or be annihilated."

He turned his back and walked through the back door into his bunker, leaving his captives to dwell on what he had said.

* * *

I hope you liked text!


	15. Chapter 14: Do Or Die

Well, this was a prompt update, wasn't it? :|

Sorry for the huge delay, I had some truely epic writer's block. Rest assured, I'll try to update more regularly.

A bit of a call-back to the battle scenes of End Times here - hopefully we'll have less dead people at the end.

Review replies;

**TweenisodeOrange:** Grim's a harsh guy. :| Anyway, here's the next chapter, at last. :D Thanks for the review!

**nightmaster000:** We shall see, my friend... Thanks for reading!

**Zim'sMostLoyalServant:** That's why Grim's the villain. *shrug* Thanks for the comment, I'' try to make it less mundane next time. :D

* * *

**Chapter Thirteen: Do Or Die**

With a thunderous roar, twelve APC's rolled down the street in front of the fortress. They screeched to a halt, and from each emerged seven soldiers of the Russian Army. They took positions on the road, rifles aimed at the large structure. A well-dressed officer strode in front, brandishing a megaphone.

"This is Colonel Deminev of the Moscow Military District!" he thundered, "You are surrounded – you will come out with your hands up, or face the consequences!"

There was no reply. Deminev's expression hardened.

"You have fifty seconds to comply!"

Grim had returned to his balcony, and was staring over the battalion of soldiers prepared to deal with him. He was flanked by Walker and ManRay.

"I sincerely hope this isn't all they have," he said to himself, "I was hoping for a challenge."

"It isn't," replied Walker, "There's a tank unit on standby. There's also a combined ops unit of the Green Berets and Royal Marines on standby."

"Well, they're not holding back," mused Grim, "Good, I like a challenge. Mr. ManRay – deploy Subject Achilles."

"Ooh! This'll be fun!" exclaimed ManRay, rubbing his hands as he strode away.

The Colonel looked at his watch.

"Times up," he hissed.

He turned to his men.

"Men!" he bellowed, "Prepare to advance!"

The soldiers began to stack up along the walls of the fortress, when they heard a strange whisper below the earth.

"…Colonel?" quizzed a sergeant, nervous.

"It is probably nothing," snapped the Colonel, "Get back in…"

The ground in front of them burst open.

Massive green vines swept over the Russian troops. Some were the size of a fist – others were like tree-trunks. Within seconds, Deminev and half of his men had been swept away by the green menace, or else crushed under the mass of the vines.

In a flash, all twelve APC's were pointing their cannons at the new threat. Their 30mm cannon were formidable cover, allowing what was left of the infantry to retreat away as quickly as they could, but it was not enough. With a serious of sickening crunches and thunderous booms, all were crushed or smashed to pieces by the storm of vines.

From his balcony, Grim smirked.

"That should buy us some time," he nodded.

* * *

Back in the bunker, the group were still tied up and guarded by three men – Kennedy, Fyodor and a man named Henderson – were standing guard.

There was a knock on the door. Henderson strode over and opened the flap, looking the intruder in the eye.

"…I'll take this from here," a muffled voice ordered, "You're needed topside."

"Copy," nodded Henderson, "Moving out."

The three soldiers strode out the door, and another walked in.

"Vlad Masters," snarled Bishop, "You really _are_ involved in this, you son of a…"

"Lieutenant, unless you want to stay there, please _don't_ finish that sentence," snapped Vlad, bringing a knife out of his pocket.

Danny raised an eyebrow.

"Wait, you're _freeing_ us?" he quizzed, "Then that must mean…"

"I am the turncoat, yes," nodded Vlad, "I have convinced some of my fellow 'lieutenants' that Grim is not our best option. He has become…_far_ too fanatical."

"So he's too evil even for you, frootloop?" spat Danny.

Vlad bit down an insult as he began to cut the group free. Behind him, Spectra, Crocker and Plankton strode into the room – it seemed that they were his co-conspirators.

"So," demanded Gavin as he was freed, "How do we know we can trust you?"

"You can't," replied Vlad, "Would you prefer to take your chances with Grim?"

There was a long silence.

"There's an armoury at the bottom of the stairs, through the other door," explained Spectra, pointing at the right-hand door, "The Jarheads and the GiW can arm up there. Once you've done, keep the guards busy until the Major gets through. That'll eat up their best guards."

"Ms. Star and Mr. Chang, you'll be with us," continued Vlad, "We're going to be organising a prison break from the dungeons."

He turned to Timmy and company, his eyes a serious glare.

"Daniel, you and your friends will go up – it's time to finish Ovard Grim once and for all," he stated.

"So we have to beat up some guy in a suit?" shrugged Bloo, "I could do that in my sleep!"

"He's got guards, you twit!" snapped Plankton, "Anyway, if he was that easy to deal with, we'd have done it already!"

"Indeed," nodded Spectra, "You're gonna find some nasty surprises up there…"

"…but we have to do this," nodded Timmy, determinedly.

"You're sending five kids up there to stop Armageddon?" demanded Tino, "What kind of idiot would wanna…"

"Let's go save the world!" cheered Spongebob, running out the door.

Tino facepalmed as the rest of the group followed.

Bishop grinned.

"What're you waiting for, Marines?" he snapped, "Move out!"

* * *

"This is Dagger Five, we have visual id on target – some sort of collection of vines."

A helicopter of the British Army hovered over the fortress, just out of range of the deadly vines. Its pilot was reporting back to the joint NATO/Russian commanders, safe at a temporary command post at the Moscow International Business Centre.

"_Copy that_," a Russian-accented voice replied, "_An armoured regiment is moving in to secure the perimeter. We are also preparing Royal Marines for an insertion by helicopter."_

"Copy," nodded the pilot, "I'll keep overwatch. Dagger Five out."

The pilot glanced back down at the scene below. While it was too dark to make out individual figures, the flashes of gunfire illuminated a crowd of civilians fleeing the organic menace.

"Alright," he whispered to himself, "This may be a bit of a mess…"

* * *

You've got to love British understatements.


	16. Chapter 15: A Race Against Time

I was going through the earlier chapters, and I found a plot point that _I_ _had totally forgotten about._

This shall be rectified, but...yeah. Always plan, people. :|

Review replies;

**TweenisodeOrange:** Well quite. :) Thanks for reading!

**aslan333:** Thanks!

**Zim'sMostLoyalServant:** No, not Undergrowth - it shall be explained. Thanks for reviewing!

* * *

**ACT IV – Midnight**

**Chapter Fourteen: A Race Against Time**

There was a crash, and six marines slammed through the door into the armoury.

Gavin picked himself up off the floor and looked around, whistling. The small room was lined with rifles, light machine guns and other such weapons. They were all of Russian manufacture, and they ranged from modern weapons to First World War antiques.

"Nice collection he's got going here," mused Rourke.

"Alright, pass 'em out," ordered Bishop, handing a weapon to both of the Guys in White, "We're playing jailbreak."

"Interrogative," snapped Operative O, "What if we find any ghosts in the cells?"

"…we won't," deadpanned Bishop, "Gavin, you take Morrissey, O and O'Reilly and cover the left half of the dungeon; I'll take Rourke, Baker and K and do the right half."

"Oo-rah," nodded Gavin, "Link up back here?"

"Good luck," wished Bishop, as Gavin led his team out, "Alright, gentlemen…lock and load."

* * *

Timmy and company were running up the spiral stairwell of a tower. It was now ten-thirty – they were running out of time to deal with Grim.

It did not help that Bloo was lagging behind, panting heavily.

"Can't we…stop for…a moment?" he gasped, leaning against the wall.

"Nope," replied Danny, "Come on."

They ran into a corridor – and froze.

The long, narrow hallway was covered in vines, moss and leaves. Flowers of various kinds hung from the ceiling. A figure in a green dress glared them down from the end of the corridor, arms crossed, green eyes staring menacingly at them.

"…Sam," breathed Danny.

Sam gave no response.

"…guys," hissed Danny, "Keep going. I'll catch up."

"Danny?" quizzed Tino.

"Go," ordered Danny.

The group nodded, and continued to run up the staircase.

Danny clenched his fists.

"So, Grim's got Undergrowth on his side, has he?" he demanded, "Or is this just something he did by himself?"

Sam began to stride towards him, still silent.

"Alright, you're not gonna say," sighed Danny, "Okay then – let's snap you out of that."

He charged at Sam, his eyes glowing a brilliant green.

* * *

Vlad, Merc, Veronica and their group approached a cell, away from all the others. In the distant passageways, they could hear gunfire – Gavin's team had engaged Grim's men.

"Well, here we are," noted Vlad, removing a key from his jacket, "Here's hoping Ovard hasn't done anything he'll regret…"

He opened the door.

Veronica stifled a gasp.

Tootie was sitting in her cell, looking extremely forlorn. Her glasses were cracked, she had cuts in several places – but thankfully, she looked okay.

"No…no more," she wheezed, looking Vlad in the eyes. The billionaire winced.

"Mr. Chang, Mr. Crocker, get her out of here," he ordered.

"N-no," breathed Tootie, "Where…Timmy?"

"He's fine," replied Merc, "He's looking for Mr. Grim, he's going to…"

"No," warned Tootie, climbing to her feet, "I have to tell him…Grim's got his parents…"

"That's why we're here, child!" announced Mark, "To free all of the hideous earthlings!"

"But…Grim's got them up _there_."

Tootie pointed weakly at the roof, and Vlad's face fell.

"That complicates things," he lamented.

* * *

Timmy, Spongebob, Tino and Bloo were now running down another corridor (there were too many, if you asked Timmy) inside the walls of the fortress. The remnants of its days as a Tsarist fortress were visible in several places – rusting cannons pointed out of slits in the walls.

"Hey, is it just me, or is it getting cold in here?" quizzed Tino.

"We're in Russia," reminded Bloo, "It's _always _cold. You're just…"

Bloo tripped on a patch of ice and went hurtling into a cannon.

"…paranoid," he groaned.

The hallway ahead was frozen, the frost turning the old cannons a whitish-blue. There were a few lumps of snow at the edges of the room, and the temperature was very low.

"Wait," mused Bloo, "So, last time it was all grassy and then we got attacked by Danny's friend…so logically, that means…"

They rounded a corner.

Standing next to a staircase was Sandy. Her fur had turned white, and her eyes were ice-blue, without irises. She was wearing a blue version of her airsuit, without a helmet.

"Sandy?" gasped Spongebob.

"Called it," stated Bloo.

Sandy advanced towards the group. Nervously, Spongebob made a defensive karate stance.

"Guys…I-I'll meet you later, I…"

"Yep, got it," nodded Tino.

The group charged upstairs, leaving the sponge and squirrel alone.

"Well, uh…this isn't going to be fun," groaned Spongebob.

* * *

Timmy, Tino and Bloo climbed onto the walls. Timmy glanced over the battlements. His jaw dropped.

A combination of vines and ice spread all around, blanketing the general vicinity in a green-blue mess. In the distance, muzzle flashes could be sighted, and commands and screams in Russian were carried in the wind.

There was an almighty boom, and a fighter jet thundered over the disorder, dropping missiles onto the enemy organisms. The ice and vines hit simply regrew, and continued to advance through Moscow.

* * *

Downstairs, Danny fired an ectoblast at his friend, but the possessed Sam simply caught it on a large leaf. She extended spiked vines towards her opponent, binding him tightly.

Danny was flung across the corridor, smashing into the walls at an alarming velocity. He was at last tossed to the floor, cracking it as his back slammed into it.

Danny lay on the ground, breathing heavily, as Sam advanced towards him.

* * *

Gavin opened fire on a group of approaching guards from the cover of a wrecked pillar. Several were brought down by concentrated fire from the team, but more came.

There was a yell down from the other end of the corridor, and Bishop's team made a run for Gavin's position. The sergeant ordered the team to keep firing, and reached out a hand to pull Bishop in.

He had just reached out to take Rourke's hand when there was a crack. O'Reilly lay back, clutching his stomach.

Yelling an order for Morrissey to tend to the wound, Gavin and Bishop continued to fire.

* * *

Veronica and Merc heaved open a cell. Tucker, Chester and Squidward tumbled out, the former sporting a nasty black eye.

Peeking inside, Merc saw a very worn looking Carver, laying on the single bench and staring intently at the roof. His leg was in a hastily made cast.

Veronica and Merc picked him up and carried him from the cell.

* * *

Spongebob's back was against the wall as his friend stood before him, her hands encased in icy gloves.

Spongebob let out a plea for mercy. Not even seeming to consider it, Sandy chopped him in the side of the head. As Spongebob fell to the floor, he felt the pain of several kicks to the stomach.

He curled up into a ball as he received the abuse, whimpering.

* * *

On the streets of Moscow, a company of Russian soldiers were fleeing desperately from a cluster of spiked vines. Just down the road, their comrades covered them with machinegun fire, urging them to make it to the checkpoint.

The vines overtook the soldiers and swiftly pulled back towards them. In seconds, the entire unit was pulled into the growth and ice, screaming in fear as they vanished from sight.

* * *

Timmy shook his head as he watched over the scene.

"You okay?" asked Tino, putting his hand on Timmy's shoulder.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine," sighed Timmy, "Let's just get this done with."

The group continued on.

Above them, the sky was lit up by the glowing fires.

* * *

Ah, this feels like writing End Times. Only with less massacres of the main cast.


End file.
